Tie My Rope
by Kakashis-First-Kiss
Summary: Romance has no place in the Death Eater ranks. But when Bellatrix saves Voldemort from an Avada Kedavra at the Battle of Hogwarts, it might just work its way in. Rodolphus dying opens up some doors, too. BellaMort, LuCissa, others later.
1. Chapter 1

He was losing.

His Death Eaters were being picked off, one by one, overcome by sheer numbers. It was infuriating, and was trying his patience with this. All he needed was Potter: all he needed was Potter, and it would all be worth it. He didn't have to do any of this now: he had dealt everyone else in Hogwarts a stunning blow, and he didn't have to fight. Still, something kept him here, hammering away at the three wizards he was dueling. Something made him want to keep fighting, to bring every single one of them to their knees if he had to do it himself. But Voldemort knew, deep down, that it would be more prudent to withdraw for now, and attack again another day. He had done enough damage, hadn't he? The great wizard dueled with himself mentally as he cast aside spell after spell, fighting to make a decision.

Bellatrix, though, was still kicking, and doing so rather spectacularly. She seemed to have no issue with fighting until she went down. Voldemort was impressed by her vicious cackling and brutal slaughter of witch after witch, wizard after wizard: she was certainly insane, he decided. She had taken on Molly Weasley now, and the woman was determined not to have any help from others in dueling Bellatrix. It was a huge mistake on Molly's part, but Voldemort would give her credit for holding her own this long. The two women were both fighting to kill, judging from the plumes of smoke and flashes of light. It barely had any time between the flashes; no words were heard, but Bellatrix was swiftly growing tired of the game. Voldemort watched out of the corner of his eyes, laughing inwardly at Molly's foolishness as Bellatrix cast circles around the blood traitor. Bellatrix was playing-_oh, not wise, Bella-finish her now!_ And, with one wicked cackle, Bellatrix did.

A flash of green light, carefully timed and placed, and Molly Weasley was dead. Horrified screams ensued as Bellatrix squealed with glee, jumped up and down, and taunted the children about her kill. Even those dueling Voldemort stopped and stared, watching as Molly fell lifelessly to the ground, eyes wide open with a dead, cold stare. Bellatrix continued to sing and dance around, mocking the entire of Hogwarts. But now, every single person in that room was rather unhappy with Bellatrix, and Bellatrix alone: every eye in that room was trained on her, and Bellatrix was suddenly a squealing target.

Thank heavens she noticed, though: a quick _"Protego!"_ took care of it. Still, Voldemort knew when he had gone far enough. It was better to simply leave when he had everything to lose and little gain, rather than the other way around. Bellatrix seemed to have triggered something, and it would be wise to move back now and allow Hogwarts-and himself-a bit of time to regroup. Voldemort couldn't see many of his own still standing, worringly. He would need to take a head-count, then. With a flick of his wand, Voldemort blasted aside Kingsley, McGonagall, and Slughorn, and made a swift escape upwards. He flew without a broom, without wings, without a Thestral or other beast: and he was raining down curses from above, flashes of green light that no one could stop. All he had to do was clear a spot for himself to get to Bellatrix, and possibly those closest to her. All he needed to do was communicate with the Death Eaters, and order a retreat. As he watched, Rowle fell, and then Dolohov-.

Bellatrix was dancing around again, firing hexes left and right. She had become enraged, it seemed, by the sudden demise of her comrades, no matter how much she despised them. Now, was she upset because she was losing, or because Hogwarts was winning? Voldemort briefly mused. Other Death Eaters were feeling her fury as well, and their attacks became more aggressive and almost random. No one knew who to focus on, and Voldemort took advantage of the opportunity. He fired down at McGonagall, and a jet of green flashed from his wand-

"Protego!"

No…no, that couldn't be him! That couldn't be him that had just thrown off an invisibility cloak. That couldn't be Potter! He had killed Potter, he knew he had! And Narcissa had told him he was dead! Was the woman so stupid that she couldn't tell if a man was dead or not? Or had Potter done something? Voldemort felt fury rising up in his chest like a tidal wave, washing over his every other thought and nullifying it. All he felt was the bitter anger and humiliation at failing yet again.

People were suddenly screaming, cheering, shouting-and Voldemort felt, for the first time, powerless to stop any of it. It wasn't supposed to be like this! He was supposed to be the one to emerge triumphant, not lose and fall to a mere boy! Voldemort came down from the skies, staring incredulously at the Potter brat who had caused him so much hell, unsure of what to do at this point. For a moment, he just stood there, shocked, as all battles ceased-

"_Avada Kedavra!!"_

An unintelligible scream from Bellatrix, and then everything went black.

OOOOOOOOO

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

As soon as Voldemort's red eyes opened, he found himself in a familiar place. He and the Death Eaters had gone in and out several times since it was discovered by Yaxley one day by accidently side-along Apparating with that filthy Mudblood Hermione Granger. All around, Voldemort could make out what was the living room, with the tapestry on the far wall and several glass cabinets lining the rest of the walls-

"I'm so sorry, my lord! I couldn't think of anything else on such a short notice, and I could barely get you out of the way in time and I shouldn't have stepped in I know but I couldn't just let you-"

"Bellatrix!"

Bellatrix stopped cold at the snake-like hiss, her mouth snapping shut like a bear trap and her eyes lowering to her hands, twisting anxiously in her lap. She looked ashamed, kneeling on the floor next to Voldemort, as if she had done something wrong and she knew it. Still, Voldemort could hardly remember what had happened…all he remembered was random flashing of red and green, and then just a wall of black had hit him in the face like a ton of bricks.

"Bellatrix…" Voldemort said slowly, pushing himself up. With a shock, he realized that he had been laid out on a couch in the living room of Twelve Grimmauld Place. "I have scant memories of what had happened…but, gathering what I have and what you have told me," _or randomly babbled like a madwoman, _"I perceive that my attention was so diverted to _Potter-" _the name was spat like poison-"that I missed several killing curses sent at me, no?"

"Th-that is correct, m-my lord…"

The poor woman had to be completely deranged already, and this wasn't helping. Voldemort just sighed, and rose from the couch, past Bellatrix, who scrambled to get out of his way. "Come," he said tonelessly, raising a hand and beckoning Bellatrix closer. He heard the soft footsteps on the carpet, following him into the kitchen, and knew that Bellatrix was staying exactly three steps behind him. "And you took me away from that?"

Bellatrix nodded wordlessly as Voldemort fixed her in his red gaze, unable to meet his eyes but unable to look away. Voldemort felt a sense of helplessness, dependence: he owed this woman his life, then. But then, he had saved hers before…so, they were even?

"A life for a life," Voldemort finally said, turning away. "My debt is repaid."

Bellatrix audibly exhaled, relief in her every feature. Voldemort had dodged that bullet for a moment: now, he had to make sure she still understood their relationship. She obeyed him: he was under no obligation whatsoever to her. "Clean this place up a bit, and get some tea out," Voldemort ordered. "I need to step out for a moment, but I will be back in a few minutes."

"Of course, my lord," Bellatrix said instantly. Voldemort didn't have to tell her what tea he liked; she didn't have to ask. She just went for the cabinets, the kettle, and the tea bags. But, she did ask one thing: "If I may, my lord, I would like to have some music on while you're occupied elsewhere-I'm not very fond of silence-"

"Fine, Bellatrix," Voldemort said, waving a hand at her and already heading for the back door. "I do not care. Just have that ready when I come back!"

"Of course, my lord," Bellatrix said again, and immediately rushed off to make it happen. Voldemort had made it to the back door and had his hand on the knob when Bellatrix's music became audible: death metal was suddenly flooding the house, with screaming vocals, squealing electric guitars, pounding drums, and a bass so heavy it could be felt in his chest. There were keyboards, brought so forward and made so fast that Voldemort couldn't even begin to fathom how any Muggle could be playing that fast. Bellatrix seemed to instantly relax, despite him jumping ten feet into the air. This woman was…something else.

Voldemort stepped outside then, shutting the door rather firmly on Bellatrix's choice of music. He watched for a moment as the latched door shuddered several times under the pulsating bass guitar, and then sighed with resignation and turned away. He could cut her some slack for a few days. In the meantime, though, anyone who didn't show up _right then and there that very second_ was not going to get any slack at all, and were, in fact, going to be very _dead._

"Assemble!"

At the snake-like hiss, there was at once two clouds of darkness appearing: one turned into Draco Malfoy, and the other became Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa clung to her husband, looking terrified: Lucius looked falsely brave, trying to hold his head up, square his shoulders and take a deep breath. Draco looked rather pleased with him, but also like he was trying not to show it. Voldemort couldn't fathom what for, especially when his father looked so anxious, but he wasn't about to find out. He didn't have the time, and didn't care.

"Are you only ones still loyal, Malfoy?" Voldemort sneered, breaking into a swift walk to get in Lucius's face. "Or are you the only ones still alive?"

Lucius tried to hold his ground, but his voice shook as he answered. "I believe it is the latter, my lord."

Voldemort felt a snake-roar break from his throat, and turned away from Lucius as to avoid killing the man. Even if Malfoy deserved death, Voldemort simply couldn't afford it at this point. But…was Malfoy telling the truth? Were they truly the only ones left?

As a matter of fact, and much to Voldemort's relief, they were not. Rabastan Lestrange appeared shortly after him, bloody and not very happy. Shortly after him, Macnair, Rookwood, and Thicknesse all appeared, none particularly looking any better. Voldemort hissed softly, circling the inside ring of the group, staring at each of his followers. Several fearfully made eye contact; others stood stock still, and simple closed their eyes in resignation. In Narcissa's case, she ducked behind her husband, cowering. Voldemort hissed again, spun around, and addressed Macnair.

"Crabbe? Goyle?"

"Goyle is dead, my lord," Macnair replied tonelessly. "Crabbe's son, as well. Goyle's son is still alive."

"Nott?"

"Killed."

Voldemort snarled, and turned away. "Anyone else?" he snarled, pacing around the circle again. Several people shook their heads; others gave hopeless shrugs. Voldemort wasn't pleased, but he figured he couldn't kill any of them just yet. Only if they sorely deserved it. He had already done away with Karkaroff, for good reasons. And so many lost at Hogwarts…

"Lestrange?"

"My brother fell in the battle," Rabastan replied, his voice just as deadpan as before. Voldemort felt a deep weight settle on his shoulders: Bellatrix…

A great squeal suddenly erupted from inside the house, and only then did Voldemort realize that the music had stopped. Had Bellatrix been listening?! Little minx!! She wouldn't take this well, Voldemort mentally bemoaned. Bella would probably have some nervous breakdown, or deny it, or-

"_Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!"_

Well, that was…exuberant. Voldemort wasn't sure how to take Bellatrix's display, seemingly one of joy. But the next words out of her mouth confirmed it as she twirled around like a lunatic, dancing out of the house and still squealing and jumping up and down. "The bastard's dead, the bastard's dead!!" she cheered, cheering happily and dancing around. "Ah-hahaha, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!!"

"Bellatrix!" someone scolded. "Behave yourself!"

"You're not the boss of me!" Bellatrix crowed childishly, sticking her tongue out at Lucius. "No one is! Ah-hahahahahahahaaaaaaa!!"

"Bellatrix!"

It was strange how Bellatrix claimed she had no master, yet at a single word from Voldemort, she suddenly ceased her appalling display, shut up, and shrank back. "That's quite enough," Voldemort snarled, leering at Bellatrix. The woman lowered her head, stuck out her lower lip, and stared up at Voldemort like a child begging for a cookie. The sound of someone slapping their own forehead made several of the Death Eaters snicker; Lucius turned away, moaning.

"Go inside," Voldemort said softly. "We'll be along in a minute."

Bellatrix seemed not to care anymore; seeing that her efforts had failed, she bounced off, still singing, with all eyes on her until the French doors slammed shut again. There was a collective sigh as Bellatrix departed, Voldemort included.

"You know it's because of you."

Voldemort turned around, rather taken aback at Narcissa's sudden bravery. "Pardon?" he mockingly sneered, taking a step closer to the Malfoy woman. Lucius held out an arm and shifted himself in front of her; whether to block Voldemort's passage or silence Narcissa, the dark lord didn't know or care. "What did you mean by that, girl?"

"You-you know Bellatrix is happy because…she really loved you," Narcissa said slowly, still hiding behind Lucius. "Now she feels free of a binding society and her family placed upon her…she feels like she's now free to pursue her own love interests."

Voldemort's only response was a condescending sneer. "Women," he chuckled. "Such temperamental creatures. And your sister is no different."

Narcissa didn't seem to disagree. Voldemort knew that temperamental was a mild word when discussing Bellatrix, but for sake of putting the issue to rest quickly, he would maintain some semblance of base respect. It did amuse him, however, that Bellatrix kept trying even though they all knew she hadn't a shot in hell.

Voldemort wrenched open the doors to the house, hearing Bellatrix's music pour out again as he and the remaining Death Eaters filed into the house. Some flinched with the loudness of the sound; others slowly took a look around, nodding appreciatively; others glanced at each other and smiled. Voldemort swept right into the kitchen, seeing Bellatrix actually working on getting tea ready, singing along to the music.

_Tie my rope one more time…_


	2. Chapter 2

Bellatrix had turned out to be a surprisingly good cook: she had managed to get dinner on the table that night at a decent time, and it was wonderful. Even Voldemort found himself eating with the rest of the Death Eaters, resulting in a bit of staring and a few awkward silences. Bellatrix alone seemed to have no problem with Voldemort eating with them: she had promptly sat down next to him and ate her own meal like she was eating by herself. Several more awkward silences ensued throughout the evening; at least, until the end of the meal, when Bellatrix insisted someone stay and help her clean up.

"Somebody's gotta help me," she whined, sitting back and looking imploringly around the table. Everyone coughed a bit, and turned away, as if avoiding eye contact would get them out of it. "Come on! You all actually made me act like a prissy, domesticated, proper little girl! You owe me!"

"Doesn't that just kill you," Lucius muttered, standing up and setting his napkin down next to his plate. "If you'll excuse me-"

"Malfoy!" Bellatrix hissed and spit like an angry cat, her demeanor completely changing in a second. "Don't you dare-!"

"Lucius, you may help Bellatrix clean up," Voldemort said smoothly, cutting right in as Lucius opened his mouth to fire back at Bellatrix. At his lord's words, Lucius's mouth simply fell open and hung there for a moment.

"I-I-my lord-?"

"_Do it."_

The authority in Voldemort's voice left no room for arguments. Lucius hastily snapped his mouth shut, and nodded. Narcissa rose as well, and laid a hand on Lucius's arm. Draco ducked out the door closest to the table, several other Death Eaters following him. Voldemort swept out of the kitchen in a flurry of black robes, leaving behind a smirking Bellatrix and a still-flabbergasted Lucius. Narcissa began habitually gathering up dishes.

"Cissy, you're too good," Bellatrix crooned, smirking at Lucius. "Take a night off."

Narcissa didn't slow. "I shouldn't," she said. "I doubt either you or Lucius know how to properly-ugh…" Narcissa whipped out her wand and began enchanting the dishes to pile themselves in the sink, and then she proceeded to clean the table. "Anyway-"

"Cissy, _go,"_ Bellatrix said firmly. Narcissa finally hesitated, and Bellatrix took her sister's wand. With a flick of her wrist, Bellatrix had settled all currently-floating dishes, ended the spell, and then handed Narcissa her wand back. "Go," she repeated firmly. "Lucius is a big, strong, semi-intelligent man. He can handle a messy kitchen. Unless mussing his hair will kill him."

"It might," someone snickered from the next room over. A red flash ensued from Lucius's suddenly-drawn wand; a harsh yelp followed, and Lucius sighed and stowed his wand in his robes again.

"Narcissa, go," he sighed. "For tonight, I'll do it…go rest. I'll do it."

Narcissa's face was overcome with relief. "Thank you," she said, smiling gratefully up at her husband. "I-I'm going to find Draco-"

"Upstairs, Regulus's room."

Narcissa yelped slightly at the disembodied voice that echoed through the room; Bellatrix giggled, and pushed Narcissa out of the kitchen as Voldemort appeared out of a cloud of black gooey smoke. Lucius busied himself with cleaning the table. Voldemort glared after Narcissa, who scampered from the room like a scared little mouse, and then at Lucius; who hastily averted his eyes and redoubled his efforts. Bellatrix was having no shortage of fun: she was laughing behind her hand, lounging against the wall and watching Lucius borderline twitch under Voldemort's watchful eye. Occasionally, he would risk a glare at her; Voldemort would then clear his throat, and Lucius would shamefully revert to the task at hand.

_I will climb the rope you tied for me;  
Beat me up while I'm still alive…_

OOOOOOOOO

Over the course of the next few days, people came and went. Death Eaters appeared and left as the dark lord called upon them, doing his bidding and occasionally reporting back. Bellatrix, however, was simply left to her own devices. She usually went out and killed Muggles and Muggle-borns, as Voldemort soon discovered, but sometimes she would skulk around the house like a slippery little shadow. Voldemort was quite amused by this, and took no shortage of pleasure in trying to find Bellatrix whenever he got bored. They had turned it into an unspoken game: she would try as hard as she could not to be found, while he would try equally as hard to find her. Having random advantages each, the two managed to drag this game out sometimes for hours, Bellatrix ducking down secret passageways and shortcuts and Voldemort drifting lazily through walls and doors. Bellatrix eventually grabbed a key and ran around the entire house outside, climbed up the back wall, and into a window she had left unlocked as of five minutes earlier. Voldemort forfeited that game, giving up and relocating to the kitchen. Bellatrix, catching on after a little while, came back downstairs.

"Were you looking for me?"

The coy innocence in her eyes and on those pouting, yet smirking lips made Voldemort want to slap her and commend her at the same time. Still, he refrained from doing anything except taking a sip of the coffee someone had made and telling Bella, "Yes."

Bellatrix's smirk faded, and became a full-on pout. Voldemort still couldn't decide if it was cute or obnoxious. "Anyway, Miss Lestrange, what were you doing-dare may I ask?"

"Looking for a book," Bellatrix replied. "Once I snuck out of Sirius's old room, I went into my uncle's study and passed the time looking for an old volume on the ancient dark arts. I couldn't find it."

"Your uncle's study spanned all three stories and nearly a third of the house," Voldemort snickered. "It doesn't shock me."

Bellatrix's eyebrows rose slightly. "And you think you could find it, my lord?" Her voice was hopeful.

"I do."

Her smirk was back, and Bellatrix giggled slightly with the sound of a fresh challenge. "By all means, then," she purred, "show me up."

Voldemort handed her his cup of coffee, and poofed away into a cloud of blackness. Bellatrix pouted momentarily, but then set the coffee down and chased after Voldemort. Were they racing now? she briefly wondered as she jogged through the halls towards the library/study. Or would this turn into another game of hide-and-seek? She could feel that tingle go down her spine when she knew he was getting closer: or she was getting closer to him. Bellatrix quickened her pace, down long hallways lined with portraits all craning their necks after her to see where she was going. Several portraits inquired as to her destination; others merely returned to sleep. Her bare feet fell on the hardwood floor with soft _pats_, her black skirts swishing around her legs in an ironic mimicry of the dark lord's own cloud of blackness. Bellatrix tossed her curly locks over her shoulder as she ran, ignoring a portrait's complaint about dropping hair on the floor. Bellatrix turned a corner, and under her feet was then the soft carpeting leading into her uncle's study. Bellatrix set both hands on the two double-door handles, yanking open the doors to the library-

Just in time to see Voldemort touching down and reforming out of a swirl of black.

She had lost. Disappointed though she was, Bellatrix still proceeded into the study, letting the doors shut behind her. "My lord," she greeted, inclining her head as soon as Voldemort caught her gaze and sinking into a deep curtsy when she got within several feet of him. Voldemort nodded once to her, and then swept away to examine the many shelves lining the walls. Bellatrix felt her heart fall at the lack of attention, but then got over it and moved on. She began to search the walls of books as well, looking for the lost volume. She had scoured the shelves already, but a second check never hurt.

"Bella?"

Bellatrix turned slightly at the sound of Narcissa's voice. Cissy was really the only one who referred to and addressed her as Bella; everyone else was really too afraid of her to address her as anything less than Bellatrix. Except the dark lord, of course. Come to think of it, though, Snape had called her Bella from time to time. Mockingly, yes, but he had still used the nickname. Bella felt an odd pang in her chest when she remembered Snape hadn't reported yet to Voldemort. And Voldemort hadn't seemed overly concerned: what had happened to Snape? Bellatrix had rather enjoyed tormenting him on a regular basis, particularly rubbing her loyalty in his face.

"My lord?" Bellatrix suddenly blurted out. "What became of Snape?"

For a moment, Voldemort froze; then, he slowly turned around, glowering at Bellatrix with a fury she had only ever seen before when Voldemort looked upon Harry Potter. Voldemort seemed to run through a variety of emotions: anger, hatred, regret, remorse, and finally, he settled on a stone-cold emotionless mask; and Bellatrix's own emotions settled as the fear abated.

"He perished in the battle."

Bellatrix, sensing that she ought not to press the issue, nodded quickly and returned to searching the shelves for the volume of spells.

"Bella!"

Bellatrix glanced down at Narcissa, lifting a single perfectly-shaped brow and reaching for a dusty old book. "Yes, Cissy?" she said, as sweetly as she could, with a disparaging, tired look on her face. Narcissa blushed slightly, and looked away.

"I-I just wanted to talk to you…but, if you're busy-"

Bellatrix glanced over at Voldemort. "My lord, may I be excused?"

"By all means," Voldemort deadpanned, running his finger down the spine of a book to wipe the dust off of it. Bellatrix curtsied, and then left the study with Narcissa in tow.

"What, Cissy?"

"I wanted to ask you a favor," Narcissa said, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Bella, I…I'm worried about Draco. Now that he bears the Mark, he is in graver danger than ever. I worry about him…all the time. I want you-no, I need you-to protect him."

Bellatrix crossed her arms over her chest, knocking her hair back with a toss of her head. "So you want me to keep him out of the dark lord's hands, mm?" A sharp snort of laughter issued from Bellatrix's throat. "Impossible."

"Not so much keep him out of his hands," Narcissa said quickly. "I know that's impossible. But just shield him from…the worst of it, won't you? I know that what the dark lord does to his followers sometimes is…beyond comprehension. Lucius has come home in the middle of the night shaking and ready to put an end to it all-I can't let that happen to my son as well. Please, Bella, you must help me-!"

"Fine."

The wave of relief that crossed Narcissa's face was evident in every aspect of her features. "Oh, thank you, Bella!" she cried, throwing her arms around her sister and hugging her tightly. "Please, if there's anything I can do to repay you, don't hesitate to ask!"

Bellatrix hastily nodded, trying to gently pry Narcissa off of her. "Alright, Cissy, thank you," she hissed, and Narcissa finally let go. "I'll do my best, okay? Now, go, I need to get back to-"

"Oh, Bellatrix, there you are."

"Go away, Lucius. Oh, better yet? Here, take Narcissa and then go away. For whatever reason, you make her happy."

Lucius just snickered at Bellatrix's less-than-friendly welcome. "Well, lovely to see you, too," he muttered, shaking his head. "Narcissa, darling, I was looking for you, as a matter of fact."

"Quick question before you go, though," Bellatrix said slowly, effortlessly leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms again. Lucius looked like he could hardly wait to hear Bellatrix's question, or he could wait forever. Half curious, half about to walk away, Lucius put his arm around Narcissa and gave Bellatrix a rather condescending, impatient stare.

"What'd he do to you?"

Lucius's face frosted over like glass, and Bellatrix suddenly knew she'd struck a nerve. A huge Cheshire Cat-like grin spread over her features, and Bellatrix's high-pitched laugh began to echo down the hallway. Glee welled up in her chest; she had won this round! Lucius just stared at her for a moment, shoulders heaving with his heavy breaths. And then, he simply turned on his heel, and walked away. Bellatrix's cackling laughter hastened his and Narcissa's walk down the hallway and out of view; and it chased them halfway across the entire house.

_Dear diary, had I known what I told you last night  
I would've never walked there to start another fight_

OOOOOOOO

Voldemort was fascinated with this one. What could she be viciously cackling about if she was just talking to Narcissa? Poor Narcissa: the woman was far too delicate to be involved with the Death Eaters, let alone her own family. The Blacks were ruthless, and so were the Death Eaters. And now her beloved husband and only child were Death Eaters? Voldemort had to give Narcissa some credit, she was a steel magnolia.

Bellatrix re-entered the library, singing what Voldemort recognized as one of the metal songs she had blasted yesterday: in a death growl. Voldemort found it strangely attractive.

"I am having trouble figuring out how that sound is issuing from a human throat."

Bellatrix just smiled. "Nothing too complicated: just using false vocal chords. I don't recommend using the bottom ones, though, they do positively _awful_ things to one's speaking voice-"

"You fascinate me."

Bellatrix looked like she had just been told that Voldemort loved her. Glee overcame her face, and Voldemort briefly wondered whether he should even keep her around, let alone pay attention to her. Bellatrix staggered away looking high as a kite, and Voldemort simply returned, dumbfounded, to searching for books. If charming all women was this easy, Voldemort would be surprised if there was a single male left on earth that was single. But then again, there were some fairly stupid men out there…

"I found it."

Voldemort flicked his wand once, and the book flew towards Bellatrix. With the skill of a Quidditch Seeker, Bellatrix reached out with one hand plucked the book right out of the air, smirking as the heavy, leather-bound volume smacked firmly into her palm. "Thank you very much, my lord," she said softly, opening the huge cover and hastily flipping through the yellowed pages. "Yes, this is it. Thank you."

"I'm assembling the Death Eaters tonight," Voldemort hissed, floating past Bellatrix on his way out of the library. "Make sure you are there."

"I will be," Bellatrix said swiftly. And then, Voldemort was gone.

**A/N: Just so all of you readers know, I only update a story with one review per chapter. With all the views I get, it shouldn't be too hard. ^_^ Please, just take the few seconds to drop a line and tell me what you think. Thanks!!**


	3. Chapter 3

"_Bellatrix Lestrange!!"_

"_What??!!!"_

"What are you doing?!!"

Bellatrix, sitting on the counter next to the sink, glanced up at Lucius. "Waiting for a bus," she snarled, clutching at the towel around her upper body. "What does it look like I'm doing?!"

"It looks like you're shaving your legs in the kitchen sink!"

"Feel lucky it's not my underarms!"

Lucius shuddered, and felt a sudden strong urge to take a shower. "Dare may I ask, Bellatrix, why you are shaving your legs in the kitchen sink when there are four perfectly good bathrooms in this house, six if you count the half-baths?"

"Because they're all full," Bellatrix pouted. "The dark lord is in one, Cissy's in another, Greyback just went into one with a book and I'm not going in there until tomorrow and Alecto Carrow's in the last one. And then the half-baths are occupied by Draco and Rabastan."

"You couldn't just wait?"

"I'm going out later. I'm pressed for time."

Lucius moaned, and turned away. "I came in here to eat, but there's no way I can while you're looking so disgraceful. My goodness, how inappropriate, sitting on the kitchen counter in nothing but a towel!"

"I have panties on. Not a bra…but panties."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Saintly," he muttered, exiting the kitchen. Bellatrix giggled, and rinsed her razor again. It was too easy to provoke Lucius, and making him squirm was so much fun…Bellatrix splashed a bit of water onto her leg to rinse it off, and then moved on to the other one. This actually wasn't working out too badly-

"Where might you be going, Bella, that would require you to shave your legs in the sink?"

"_Ow, bloody-!!"_ Bellatrix sighed and wiped angrily at the little drop of red now sliding down her pale skin. "I'm sorry, my lord, you startled me."

"Indeed I did," Voldemort said slowly, aimlessly wandering around the kitchen. "And where might you be going of such importance?"

Bellatrix hastily wiped a bit more blood off of her leg, rinsing her hand in the sink. "I wanted to go…relieve some stress," she said slowly, carefully running the razor up her leg again. "There's a Muggle club not far from here where they play metal music…and it's fun to go every now and then just to let off some energy."

"So, in other words, you're associating with those filthy creatures."

"No, no," Bellatrix said quickly. "I always kill a few before the night is over…but it's fun to just jump up and down and scream for a few hours. Start a…start a mosh pit?"

Voldemort was dumbfounded. Bellatrix, one of his strongest supporters, and certainly his best warrior, liked to go out in the middle of a Muggle club and start riots, get into fights, and participate in mosh pits? Yes, it was fun to cause chaos, but wasn't it much more satisfying to do so in the wizarding world? What was the appeal of doing so in a Muggle setting, where one wasn't even killing? "I can't decide if you're even crazier than I thought, or if there's something here I'm missing," Voldemort finally said. "And I honestly can't sway myself one way or the other."

Bellatrix smiled, shaving the last strip of her leg and rinsing her razor one last time. "It's fun," she assured him. "Especially because I get to dress up."

"That I can't wait to see," Voldemort drawled, rolling his eyes. "I will not have someone so closely associated with me walking around looking like a tramp, you understand me?"

"Perfectly," Bellatrix said smoothly, hopping down off the counter. She wrapped her towel more tightly around herself, and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. "I'll have to hide my tattoos somehow, though…"

"So cover them up," Voldemort hissed. "With clothing!"

Bellatrix seemed caught for a moment, and paused on her way out. "Um…how do you feel about fishnet and leather…? Does that count…?"

OOOOOOOOO

"I can't believe he's letting you do this."

"I can't believe it either. But let's not look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Bella, you cannot seriously be doing this."

"I am."

"Did Rodolphus even know?"

"Not really…not really, no."

"Why are you-?"

"You wanna come with?"

"_Not in all the seven hells, no!!"_

Bellatrix smirked like the devil herself, adjusting her shirt slightly, showing off more of her slender shoulders and ample cleavage. Narcissa shuddered, and looked away. "Bella, don't do this," she said. "This is so stupid, and reckless, and irresponsible-"

"They've got good music. I'm out."

"Bella! Not looking like that you aren't! Where did you even get those clothes?"

"Raided a Muggle place."

Narcissa shook her head, and stuck her nose in the air. "You look disgusting," she said resolutely, as if trying to ignore the appeal of cutting loose and running around free. "With your breasts hanging out and showing more leg than-"

"Spare me, Cissy," Bella giggled. "Let your hair down and come with me!"

"Not if you look like that, no! That's embarrassing!" Narcissa folded her arms across her chest and turned away slightly. "Fishnet and a sleeveless top that rides so low it's almost exposing your stomach, with the name of some satanic band across the front, and then those tight pants and the boots and the gloves-!"

"Cut it out, Cissy!" Bella laughed, opening the front door. "If anyone asks, I'll be back by midnight. If not…come find me, I'm probably drunk."

"_You'll be drinking?!!"_

Bellatrix just closed the door, pointedly waving Narcissa good-bye. Poor Narcissa almost fainted.

OOOOOOOOO

"How long since Bellatrix left?" Voldemort asked Narcissa. The young blonde slowly answered,

"Ten minutes, my lord. If I may inquire as to why-?"

"Did she mention a name of a place?"

"She-she called it Shred Heaven, whatever that means-"

"I'm following her. Midnight, we assemble. Don't find anything to do at that time."

Narcissa helplessly nodded, and Voldemort disappeared. Lucius glanced at his wife; Alecto and Amycus Carrow glanced at each other; Greyback and Rabastan exchanged intrigued looks.

"Who wants to follow _him?"_

OOOOOOOOO

"Fuck hypocrisy, and fuck you, too!!"

Bellatrix was happily jumping up and down, screaming like her life depended on it. She and a few others were hanging over the barriers in front of the stage, headbanging like there was no tomorrow and singing along to the guitarist's screaming vocals.

"I don't give a flying fuck, motherfucker! I don't give a flying fuck, motherfucker! I don't give a flying, I don't give a flying, I don't give a flying _fuck!!"_

The entire band was sweating, and tossing their long hair everywhere. Bellatrix found their guitarist/vocalist, bassist, and keyboardist all very attractive. The guitarist was a blonde, slender and muscular with tattoos on both arms. He carried a white guitar in a double-saw-toothed cut, was clothed in all black, and wore more eyeliner than Bellatrix did. The bassist was a deceptively quiet showman with a deep, powerful voice and mousy-brown hair. He looked a bit detached from everything else, but once he stepped into the show, he stole the spotlight. The keyboardist was an adorable brunette who looked like he was at the bottom of the pecking order. Despite that, though, Bellatrix was quite taken to him. Her attention was especially caught when, during the solo, the guitarist went over and stood by him-and then the two exchanged a kiss that had the entire of the female audience cheering, whistling, and screaming.

"Say what? Four words: I DON'T DARE YOU! _Bring it on!_ It's my world; you're in it; it'll take you down in a minute! You can alter your look; diversify your race…but the truth…seems like…_a bitch slap in your face!"_

The song ended, and the entire venue went crazy. Bellatrix grabbed a drink off the tray passing by, and knocked a shot back. Now this was having fun! The guitarist paused and took a step back, grinning, and then turned around and went to grab a drink of beer from the back set-up comprised of cans of oil and a car. In the meantime, the keyboardist, drummer, and bassist all played a soft jazz riff to entertain the crowd. Some people were impressed; others, like Bellatrix, were not so impressed, and were antsy for the next song to start. The guitarist, it seemed, was part of Bellatrix's crowd; when he next walked up to the microphone, he was grinning viciously, and took a shot at the keyboardist.

"I dunno what the fuck is up with that jazz shit," he drawled. "Aren't you guys done already?!"

The riff ended, and the guitarist said, "Thank you, very beautiful indeed...wasn't it?" The dry sarcasm in his voice made Bellatrix laugh, and half of the crowd cheered to agree with the guitarist. "Alright, then! Now that that shit's done with…I wanna see every motherfucker in this venue just go totally fuckin' crazy! I wanna see that mosh pit right there, man, 'cuz the next song's gonna be called…Needled. Twenty-four. Seven!!"

The entire club roared at once, and the next song began.

OOOOOOOOO

The flashing lights hid Voldemort's spectral form as he glided over the party-goers, looking for one black-brown mop of hair with a blonde streak. Bella was somewhere around here, and he would find her before the night was up! It was almost like the ultimate game of hide-and-seek. And he was determined to win. As a cloud of black, Voldemort circled above the crowd, looking for Bellatrix in the crowd of multi-pierced, wild-colored-hair, black-and-fishnet-clothed concert-goers and shot girls walking around with trays of nasty-looking drinks. It was proving very difficult to tell anyone apart, let alone tell which one was Bellatrix. He hadn't seen what Bellatrix was wearing when she left Grimmauld Place; all he had gotten out of Narcissa was that she looked like "a dreadful gutter-trash tramp" and Bella should "come with a warning label." So far, most of the people in this room fit that description.

Voldemort angrily circled more and more, still looking for Bellatrix. He wanted to know what she was doing! If she wasn't here, Voldemort was going to be very, very, _very_ angry-

There! In the front! Oh, she looked wasted, stoned, or just out of her mind…but, it also looked like she was having the time of her life. The band on the stage was energetic, and seemed to be putting on a fantastic show. Bellatrix was thoroughly enjoying herself, and it seemed like no one had any clue who she was…maybe…maybe this was harmless after all…maybe this wasn't what he had originally thought it was like…

Something compelled Voldemort to turn around and Disapparate with a quiet _pop!_ completely hidden from the crowd below.

OOOOOOOOO

Bellatrix finally got back at ten till midnight; and right in the middle of chaos.

Alcohol gently wafted around her, but Bellatrix was far from drunk. Adrenaline still coursed through her system, and had barely worn off since the concert ended. She was still on a terrible high from sneaking backstage with a Confundus charm and meeting the band, and that, too, had yet to fade. Now, though, it was as if someone had opened up an entire can of buzz-kill: Narcissa was crying against Rabastan's shoulder while the Lestrange man tried awkwardly to comfort her; Lucius was reaching out to Narcissa, seemingly pleading with her, while everyone else (literally every Death Eater still alive was present) formed a circle around them. Bellatrix heavily slammed the door to announce her arrival, resulting in a few glances her way, but not much more. Upon wandering down the long hallway, Bellatrix could see that everyone standing in the kitchen looked shocked, worried, or angry, and Voldemort was nowhere to be seen.

"How could you do this?!!" Narcissa was sobbing, as Lucius tried to talk to her. "How could you?!"

"What is going on?" Bellatrix snarled, instantly incensed by the sight of her sister crying. Narcissa might not have been as tough as Bellatrix was, but it still took quite a bit to upset her this much. Bellatrix angrily shoved her way past the Death Eaters gathered around Lucius and Narcissa; everyone moved out of her way once her aggression was made known. Narcissa looked up as Bellatrix laid a hand on her shoulder, and then launched herself into Bellatrix's arms. "Cissy, what's wrong?" Bellatrix asked, wrapping her arms around her sister. "Cissy?"

"He-he…" Narcissa then burst out sobbing again, unable to finish. Bellatrix instantly looked up at Lucius. The Malfoy just looked at her with a sorrowful, pleading expression on his face. Bellatrix, not buying it for a second, lashed out with one hand and slapped Lucius full across the face.

"What did you do, you bastard?!!" Bellatrix snapped, turning Narcissa away and raising a hand to Lucius again. Lucius stepped back nervously, his mouth working around the soundless words that refused to flow. He struck Bellatrix as slightly comical, if the situation were not so serious. Not a patient woman, Bellatrix persisted: "Answer me, scum! What did you do?"

Narcissa gave a soft hiccup, and then lifted her head to say to Bellatrix,

"He cheated on me…and in the process, also sold out the dark lord."

_Body like a roadmap of pain  
Mind like a landfill of shame  
Tie my rope one more time_

**A/N: So, as far as musical releases go, I am screwing timelines over. Other than that, all timelines are accurate. The concert scene is almost an exact rip from the Children of Bodom live DVD, Stockholm Knockout. The lyrics scattered throughout the fic are all from the title song, Tie My Rope, unless otherwise noted. Review, or I don't update!!**


	4. Chapter 4

Bellatrix was suddenly seeing red. Had Lucius really done what Narcissa said he had? Was Narcissa telling the truth? What had happened? How had they found out? Who had Lucius been with, how long, why-? So many questions, but none were even present in Bellatrix' mind for longer than a second and a half. Instead, all she felt was anger. Pure ire rose up in her chest, and Bellatrix suddenly couldn't control herself. She handed Narcissa off to Rabastan again, and her wand suddenly leapt to her hand. For the first time in her entire life, Bellatrix saw true fear cross Lucius's face. He knew what was coming next.

Bellatrix raised her wand. "You'll pay for this, you bloody horse's ass! Crucio!!"

Bellatrix's wand fell, and the spell was cast. There wasn't anything anyone could do. Lucius remained standing for a moment, but then the pain registered in his mind and he fell to the floor, screaming with agony. "Why did you do it?!" Bellatrix screamed, her voice rising above Lucius's. "Why? Answer me!! Crucio!!"

Bellatrix's spell did nothing but increase the pain. Lucius was powerless to even control his movements, as his muscles spasmed and locked with the horrific attack. And Bellatrix wasn't letting up. In fact, her anger only seemed to mount as she continued with the horrific interrogation. "Who was she?!" she demanded, ending one of the Crucio's she had cast. "Who?!!"

"It-it wasn't-it isn't-what you think-"

"Not good enough, Malfoy!" Bellatrix cried, casting another spell. "Crucio!" Narcissa had noticed what Bellatrix was doing by now; she had broken free of Rabastan and ran over to her sister, clutching at her arm and screaming at her to stop. Bellatrix was having none of it. "Talk, you slime!" she cried. "Talk, and I might have mercy! Talk, you sniveling, groveling, filthy-"

"Bella, don't say it!" Narcissa implored.

"-dirt-veined-"

"Bella, please, don't-"

"-mud-covered slime-"

"_Bella!"_

"MUDBLOOD!!"

There was a resounding gasp from the entire group of Death Eaters. Lucius was still screaming from the pain, but even through the agony, shock still displayed on his face. Bellatrix redoubled her curse as Narcissa burst into tears; the Death Eaters were all muttering amongst themselves, astonished that their best would dare use the unforgivable word on one of their own kind. Lucius saw an opportunity, and tried to speak through Bellatrix's curse. It didn't get him far.

"I-I didn't-"

"Don't deny it! Cruc-"

"Bella, no!!" Narcissa cried, yanking Bellatrix's wand arm hard enough to stop the rest of the spell from going through and end the others. "Let him explain, please!"

"I-I _can_ explain-" Lucius started.

"Like hell you can!" Bellatrix snarled, taking a menacing step towards Lucius and aiming a sharp kick at his side. "Crucio!"

"Bella, _no!!"_ Narcissa repeated. Her voice had risen to a shrill screech, and she was barely standing anymore. "Bella, please, a chance-!"

"He doesn't deserve a chance!" Bellatrix growled. "Sectumsempra!"

"Bella-" someone said warningly.

"You can be next!" Bellatrix screeched, whipping around and somehow keeping her wand trained on Lucius. Amycus slithered back, unwillingly to incur the wrath of Bellatrix Black. Bellatrix returned her attention to Lucius, unsatisfied with the results so far.

"Talk, scum!" she demanded again, ignoring the growing stains of blood on Lucius's robes. She had ended Snape's cutting spell, but Lucius was now struggling for breath. Bellatrix was well aware if she went much farther, she would be risking Lucius's life, but somehow, she didn't care. "Lucius Malfoy, you have one last opportunity, I advise you take it-!"

"Aunt Bella?"

Bellatrix somehow heard the muffled, tiny, scared voice from the midst of the chaos; somehow, Draco's voice broke through to her, and ended the mad gleam in her eye. Draco rushed forward, looking horrified at the sight of his father under Bellatrix's wand, unable to even comprehend what had happened. Bellatrix showed no remorse, even though her mad rampage had ended. She merely stepped aside, letting Draco rush to his ruined father's side. Draco fell to his knees next to Lucius, his face contorting into tears as he saw what Bellatrix had done.

"Why?" Draco whispered, laying a hand on Lucius's shoulder. Lucius flinched visibly at even Draco's merest touch.

"He did the unforgivable," Bellatrix said coldly, setting a hand on her hip and standing aside as Narcissa ran forward. "He hurt Cissy, _and_ betrayed the dark lord."

"Mum?" Draco looked up at Narcissa, confused. Narcissa already had her wand out, and was struggling to close the vicious wounds Bellatrix had inflicted. When Draco leaned closer, asking again, Narcissa just shook her head. She needed to focus on Lucius right now.

"Cissy, leave him," Bellatrix said flatly, her tone frigid as ice. "He doesn't deserve it."

"I won't let him die," Narcissa choked, murmuring spell after spell under her breath. She eventually lifted Lucius's head into her lap, and proceeded to heal him as much as she could while running her fingers over Lucius's soft platinum hair. Bellatrix just snickered, and turned away.

"Absolutely pathetic," she snarled, pacing back and forth around Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco. "Absolutely. Pathetic. You call yourselves Death Eaters? This is what it means. You can't have any qualms about this. You use the Unforgivable Curses like you just don't care. If someone does something out of line, whether they are affiliated with us or not, they are punished. We are to be feared, not worshiped, not loved, not adored, not put on a pedestal. We are to command respect everywhere we go, instill terror in the hearts of everyone we see-your father should have known what he was getting into when he decided to betray Cissy and the dark lord."

"Betray her…?" Draco said slowly. He only sounded more confused than ever.

"Infidelity," Bellatrix growled, snaring like an angry cat. "An unspeakable act, for Lucius, anyway. Don't get me wrong, Draco, your father is no saint-but this is low, even for him. Betraying your mother, who was nothing but good to him. Betraying the dark lord, which I shouldn't even have to go into. Disgusting. Despicable. Heinous. Atrocious. I can't fathom how he thought he would get away with it, either. Someone was bound to find out sooner or later: we're Death Eaters."

Draco looked like he had been slapped in the face. Narcissa just shook her head, as if she couldn't believe what was coming out of Bellatrix's mouth. Bellatrix couldn't hear what Narcissa was saying, but her lips were moving, and it wasn't in any spell Bellatrix recognized: if it was even a spell at all. Draco, however, was listening very intently, and he seemed to understand what was being said.

"It's…it's not…what you all…think…"

Lucius had finally mustered up the nerve and the breath to speak, but his very voice inflamed Bellatrix like pouring oil on a fire. Still, something held her wand for a moment; Bellatrix was able to stand stock still and listen, if only for a few seconds.

"I…I didn't…I didn't cheat…on Narcissa…I didn't…betray him…you-you've got it all wrong…you didn't…see what…you thought you saw…"

"Oh, cut the crap, Lucius!" Bellatrix snarled, spinning around on her heel. "Even Narcissa believes it! That's good enough for me! Crucio!"

"_Bella!!"_ Narcissa sobbed, fighting to hold onto her husband. "Bella, please, stop! Please!!"

"He deserves it! _Crucio!!"_

"_Bellatrix!!"_

"Aunt Bella!!"

"Bella!"

"Bellatrix, stop!"

"Bellatrix, he won't be happy-"

"You better not kill him, Bellatrix-"

"Bellatrix!"

"Bella!"

"_Enough."_

Bellatrix was only affected by one voice, and that snake-like hiss cut through her like a knife. Bellatrix spun around, with the spell still in place, unsure if her ears betrayed her. They hadn't: Voldemort was standing there, looking none too pleased. Bellatrix hurriedly ended the spell, and took a breath to explain. The second she opened her mouth, however, Voldemort held up a hand, stopping her short. Bellatrix's face fell; she wasn't trusted, and her word didn't matter to him. Voldemort looked around, and took in the scene: the horde of Death Eaters gathered around, a sobbing Narcissa combing her fingers through Lucius's hair, a confused Draco with his innocence freshly shattered, and Bellatrix, as cruel and animalistic as ever when she turned again to look at Lucius.

"Go," Voldemort said softly, motioning Bellatrix out of the room. "Change. The rest of you are dismissed for the moment; stay in this house, but leave this room. Narcissa, Lucius, stay."

Bellatrix hurriedly left the room, only just then remembering that she had yet to change back into her witch's robes. She thundered up the stairs to the room she had settled in, slamming the door shut behind her and instantly tearing off the Muggle clothes and dumping them on the bed next to her robes. She managed to pull the robes on almost as fast as she had pulled the fishnet off, and then she transferred her wand from one set of clothes to another. Bellatrix had changed in less than five minutes.

Downstairs, most of the Death Eaters were sitting in the parlor, perched on various surfaces and furniture. Some were sharing couches, armchairs, pillow, and the like: others rather nastily claimed their own space as their own and no one else's. Bellatrix slowly walked through the crowd, glowering at anyone whose eye she caught. Eventually, someone moved over and offered her a seat on a fluffy armchair. Bellatrix accepted the invitation, gracefully sitting down and gathering her skirts around her. Everyone was waiting with a general air of tension; occasionally, they could catch a sound from the other room if they were all absolutely silent and listened closely. But it was never anything that would tell them what was going on. Every now and then, Voldemort would call someone else into the room, but they always came back very quickly, and without sustaining any hexes. A hopeless shrug and a clueless glance, and then the person would sit down again.

The minutes dragged on; repeated glances at the clock wouldn't make those hands move any faster, and it seemed everyone was doing. The tension was building up very quickly, and everyone was feeling its weight bearing down on them like a ton of bricks. The air was thick enough to be cut, and every single presence in the room was stifling.

"I'm going outside for some fresh air."

Bellatrix got up and walked out, leaving a few half-hearted shrugs in her wake. She was still simmering from the incident: being in that room was testing every fiber of her self-control. Bellatrix knew exactly where to go, though: upstairs and right out the top floor's window. There was a fire escape out there that always had a lovely view of the moon. Bellatrix hopped out of her own bedroom's window, setting her feet firmly on the metal grating right beneath it. Her boots hit the steel with a sharp _clang! _Bellatrix ignored it, and proceeded to duck out the window.

It was a deluge outside: the rain came pouring down like Narcissa's tears, drenching Bellatrix instantly. She didn't bother casting any charm over herself to keep herself dry; she could always dry herself off later with another charm, and she could use a good soak right now. It was so refreshing to have that cooling, refreshing rain washing over her like a waterfall of calm. She leaned on the railing and lifted her eyes to the roiling clouds, sudden doubt worming its way into her heart. What if Lucius really could explain? There were so many possibilities, now that Bellatrix thought about it: and just because she and Lucius didn't get along didn't mean he and Narcissa didn't have a good relationship. Not everyone's marriage was like hers and Rodolphus's.

Bellatrix turned her face up to the soothing rain, letting it soak her face with a roar of thunder and a strike of lightning. Everything felt clearer now; the weight had lifted from her shoulders, and she could _think_ again. The smoke had cleared; the fog had lifted. Bellatrix could feel that clarity rush over her with the rumbling storm, ignoring the forks of light that raced through the sky. She knew she was in a dangerous position, and absent-mindedly cast a charm to keep lightning from coming too close. Still, nothing could really deter her from staying out here until someone wanted to find her. She could use the alone time.

"I was wondering where you were."

Bellatrix glanced over at the suddenly-appeared Voldemort. "I were here," she said, smiling. Both of them were a bit surprised by Bellatrix's rapid calm, but neither addressed it. Instead, they turned their faces up to the rain, letting the droplets of water run over their pale faces and, in Bellatrix's case, back into her dark hair. Voldemort watched her serene face for a moment, unable to fathom how quickly she had turned around from that wild-eyed fury he had seen in her earlier. No words were spoken; none were needed. Bellatrix was perfectly content to stand there forever, and soak in the rain's calming effects. Voldemort couldn't quite stand there forever, but he could stand there for a little while, and just let the rain fall on his cold body.

"Would you ever do it?"

Voldemort glanced over at Bellatrix, confused, unsure if he had heard her correctly through the pouring rain. "Excuse me?" he said slowly.

"If you…" Bellatrix took a deep breath, and then continued, "If you ever had someone trusting you with their life…everything they ever were, are now, and ever will be, would you break that trust? Would you betray that confidence you worked so hard to build, that trust that has been placed in you?"

Voldemort snickered, at first disregarding her on many points. "No one trusts me," he sneered, returning his gaze to the world several stories below. The snake-man rested his arms on the railing of the fire escape, and looked down at the little street beneath his feet. "And if they do, I haven't worked for it, or even asked for it, or even wanted it. People _shouldn't_ trust me. And how can one break trust they don't have?"

Bellatrix just smiled, not even looking at him. "I trust you," she murmured. "I trust you to lead us to victory, to always be there, to make the right decisions, to take care of problems that arise. I trust you to do what's best for our movements and our group and our alliances and allies. I trust you not to break Cissy or Draco, and I trust you not to break me. And others trust you similarly…on the first few points, anyway."

Voldemort was about to snicker again, to laugh her off: but then, what she said sank in. They all trusted him to an extent, didn't they? He supposed that they all trusted him, at least as far as they could throw him: which, if they used magic, he supposed was quite far, but there was a minimal, base trust between them all. Nothing to Bellatrix's level, maybe, but there was still something…but would even Voldemort, the master of lies and deception and treachery, break that small amount of trust he had? Was having no one trust you something to be proud of, or ashamed of, or did it matter?

"Could you?"

"Could I, or would I?" Voldemort said slowly. But, instead of the snicker he had originally intended it to come out as, it came out as a thoughtful proposition. "Well, those are very different questions, I suppose…I certainly could, but I might not…I still need people as a means to an ends, no?"

"So we're nothing but tools?"

Bellatrix had abandoned her fruitless stargazing and had turned to face Voldemort. "We mean nothing to you at all? None of us? Does loyalty mean nothing to you? I understand, my lord, that you weren't exactly shown loyalty and trust early in life…but surely you have been shown it now, doesn't that mean anything?"

"Bellatrix, don't do this to me tonight." Voldemort had wanted the words to come out aggressive and frightening, but he just sounded as tired as he was. Voldemort rubbed his hand against his forehead, sighing. "Some other time."

"You don't care, do you?"

Voldemort struggled for a moment, but Bellatrix spoke again, saving him from answering for a minute. "You can sleep perfectly well at night you knew you took someone's everything, their being, their existence, and just shattered it on the floor? That doesn't bother you at all?"

"It does!" Voldemort finally blurted out. "I did it…I've done it…I've taken people's ultimate trust and broken it, I've watched their eyes turn from trusting, loving, caring, to sad betrayal-and I don't sleep at night, not that's any business of yours. I did it to Dumbledore, I did it to Pettigrew, I did it to Snape-"

Voldemort suddenly froze, as if aware he had said too much. His neck twisted, as if he was trying to crack it, and his mouth parted slightly. Bellatrix wasn't as taken aback as he thought she would be: but she obviously wasn't happy, either. If anything, she just looked like she was feeling sorry for him. The look caused more anger to rise up within Voldemort, but he didn't do anything about it except hold it in check. Black robes, slick with rain, clung to his body: Bellatrix's hair stuck to her neck and her dress was glued to her slender figure. Heavy rain pelted mercilessly against both of them, but it seemed it wasn't there. Red eyes slashed by vertical pupils and soft brown eyes met in a shower of sparks, sympathy to anger-

Chocolate won.

Voldemort turned away, shaking his head. "Don't feel sorry for me," he growled, waving his wand over himself once. It was as if he had just spent hours in the sun: he was perfectly dry, and ducked back into the house through the window. Bellatrix remained facing the opposite way, staring out over the landscape like she was in a trance. Voldemort paused for a moment once he had gotten himself inside and was standing up straight again. Then, he slowly bent down and called back out the window,

"Come back inside soon. I want to have everyone there when we explain what happened."

_Tell me once, I decline, I refuse to learn  
Shoot me twice but I'm not going down_


	5. Chapter 5

Bellatrix was only a few more minutes outside; still, it seemed like an eternity to those waiting in the parlor downstairs. Voldemort gathered all the rest of the Death Eaters in the meantime; several others had scattered after Bellatrix had taken her leave. Voldemort found them in random rooms just taking deep breaths and trying to gather their thoughts. He shooed them all back to the same room, despite several inquires as to the situation, merely saying, "I'll explain when everyone's downstairs." Not surprisingly, no one objected.

It took Bellatrix all the time it took Voldemort to gather the rest of his followers to reappear; she mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, waltzing into the parlor perfectly dry as the very last Death Eater entered. Voldemort just shook his head, and motioned Bellatrix to take a seat. Bellatrix seated herself rather daintily on an empty armchair, seemingly left for her, and then, Voldemort addressed his Death Eaters.

"As you undoubtedly know, one of you has been accused of infidelity. We are going to put this matter to rest _right now. _There was no unfaithfulness; this has been confirmed by Legilimency. It was a misunderstanding, caused by one Polyjuice Potion trick. I have discerned the identity of the one posing as the accused, and I will be dealing with it at the next opportunity. No one is to bear grudge; no one is to linger on this incident. Anyone who does faces my…_displeasure."_

Several in the circle gulped; others just settled for nodding submissively and acting like they were used to it. Voldemort gave one last leering stare around the group, and then swept out of the room in a swirling of black robes. No one dared follow; they hadn't been given any orders, which was the equivalent and perfectly understood "don't do anything."

"Well…not that this isn't fun, but I'm going to find Lucius."

Everyone's jaws dropped at Bellatrix's notion. "Bella…you might not want to do that," one person chimed in from the opposite side of the room. Bellatrix rolled her eyes, and hopped off the chair she had been sitting on. She crossed the room in four long strides, and exited the room much like her master had: in a storm of black robes.

Bellatrix crept down the long hallway of Twelve Grimmauld Place, heading for the kitchen. That was where she had left Lucius and Narcissa, and that was where Voldemort had been conducting his inquiries. But, when Bellatrix cast her gaze around, she didn't see Voldemort anywhere: instead, she saw Lucius, still on the floor, and Narcissa wrapped around him, her sobbing slowing, but not stopping. Lucius had managed to sit up, however, and was attempting to comfort Narcissa. He knew the second Bellatrix entered the room; his form visibly stiffened, and Narcissa's head whipped up as a result of this. She at first looked fearful, but she steeled herself and wiped all emotion from her face.

"Come to apologize?" she snapped, hastily wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

"You wish," Bellatrix sneered. "No, I came to see if you were going to make it or not. Fortunately, you will. _Un_fortunately, that Malfoy scum will, as well."

Narcissa's jaw tightened, and she at first looked like she was trying not to spit out an angry retort. Then, she said nothing, and slowly pushed herself to her feet. Just as quickly, though, Narcissa crouched down again, and set one hand against the side of Lucius's face. She whispered something to him, and then stood up again and faced Bellatrix, face filled with hesitant boldness.

"Why are you here?"

Bellatrix gave a little snort of laughter, and breezed past Narcissa to crouch down in front of Lucius. Lucius's face, unlike his wife's, held no confidence or boldness; instead, Lucius tried, unsuccessfully, to push himself back. Narcissa had taken her wand out, and she didn't look friendly with it. Bellatrix slid her hand under Lucius's jaw, her talon-like nails digging into his flesh as she pulled his face to stare her in the eye. Lucius met her gaze, although looking a bit disgusted. When Bellatrix spoke next, it was in a slow, deliberate tone.

"I want to know what you did…or didn't do…why it happened…how it happened…and who the culprit was. No, no, don't protest-" Bellatrix added quickly, seeing Lucius move to object. "Just…tell me…"

Lucius hesitated again. Bellatrix waited patiently for less than ten seconds, barely the time it took for her hand to drop to her side and her wand to rise, but then, her patience was gone. She flicked her wand once at the long hallway leading out of the kitchen, whispering, "Muffliato," as she did so. Then, Bellatrix returned her attention to Lucius, now looking much less inclined to keep Bellatrix waiting much longer. "Now, Malfoy," Bellatrix said sweetly, her voice positively dripping with false affection, "you can either answer me now, or I will bind Cissy and Cruciate you into the same state as the Longbottoms. Your. Choice."

"You wouldn't dare!" Narcissa shrieked, but Bellatrix merely spun her wand to Narcissa and hissed,

"Don't. Try. Me. I won't hurt you, Cissy, not if I can help it, but this scum needs to know what he's going against if he messes with me!"

Narcissa's mouth snapped shut, but a tiny whimper broke from her throat. Bellatrix returned her attention to Lucius, snarling once again and pointing her wand at Lucius's face.

"Talk."

Lucius swallowed hard, and was suddenly far more inclined to talk. "He-he's a Legilimens," he said quickly, leaning back away from Bellatrix's wand. Bellatrix tauntingly pushed it closer, which only seemed to drive Lucius's words faster as his eyes nervously flickered between Bellatrix's face and her wand. "He-he saw things that I…I don't even remember. He brought them forth-"

"Such _lies,_ Lucius," Bellatrix whispered, quoting her master in an eerily similar way. Lucius was almost inclined to respond as he had back then: grovel and beg for forgiveness.

"Alright, I lied!" Lucius blurted out. "I don't know who it was: anyone who managed to get a hold of my hair could have done it. I just remember seeing someone who was my carbon copy talking to a female Ministry official, and…using some…interesting methods of persuasion-"

Bellatrix, not quite convinced, had given up halfway through Lucius's attempts to talk and had subtly slid into his mind. She had used her wand and a non-verbal Legilimens to penetrate Lucius's mind, and was now comfortably sifting through the depths of those gray eyes. Lucius only took notice of thoughts lazily drifting across his mind without his direction a few seconds after he had stopped speaking.

"_Bellatrix!!"_

Bellatrix grinned, and Lucius continued: "How dare you?! Get out! How rude! And I'm fairly certain it's also illegal-"

"So's Crucio, but I still use that on you without restraint. Speaking of, Malfoy, _you_ would do best to learn when to hold your tongue and when to loose it. Telling the dark lord of this imposter might have saved us all a lot of pain."

"I know," Lucius said quickly. Bellatrix checked his repentance in his mind; he truly was sorry, but only for the pain he had caused Narcissa. He didn't, in fact, give a damn about the rest of the Death Eaters' pain, and didn't care what they went through so long as his own skin didn't get scraped. Still, Bellatrix held a soft spot in her heart for her baby sister, and the fact that Lucius held any remorse at all seemed to be enough. Bellatrix finally withdrew, leaving Lucius with a relieved sigh.

"Bella, that was rude, uncalled for, and I won't stand for it!" Narcissa was pouting. She just appeared, to Bellatrix, as a whining, petulant, child-like brat. "That is my husband, and you will not-!"

"That very well could have been your husband cheating on you and selling out the dark lord," Bellatrix sneered. "Be glad for his sake that it wasn't."

Narcissa fell silent, and Bellatrix finally rose from her crouch on the floor. "Good," she said, turning her nose into the air and finally stowing her wand in her robes. "Now that we have that sorted out, we can move on to more important business."

"Bellatrix, the room is still silenced," Narcissa said slowly.

"And?"

Lucius shuddered, and finally moved to pick himself up from the floor. Bellatrix didn't expect him to succeed: the blood loss and aftereffects of the pain weren't going to be friendly to him. Sure enough, the weakness in Lucius's body was made apparent as he tried to stand once, twice, three times, and only then did he manage to haul himself up. In another few seconds, however, Lucius had sunk down into a chair at the long table, the trembling of his weary limbs too much to ignore. Narcissa only had concern etched into her face; Bellatrix was sneering like she was staring down a Mudblood.

"What happened? Who found out, and how?"

"It was Rookwood who first said something," Lucius snarled, clear aggression in his face. He obviously wasn't happy with Rookwood for the betrayal. "He should have come to me first…asked for an explanation, tried to work it out…but instead, he decided to play the king of gossip, a role I had thought was reserved for adolescent females. He was talking about it with Alecto Carrow, who in turn told Amycus, who in turn told Avery, who in turn told Rosier, who in turn told his wife, who finally told Narcissa at this latest meeting. I Apparated in only to be brutally attacked by said darling wife screaming at me and demanding, 'Why did you do it?' Needless to say, I was quite put off, and asked for the situation. And then you showed up…"

Bellatrix let a little snicker of laughter escape her throat, and began to slowly pace around the room. "And how did Rookwood find out?" she asked. "Dare may I ask?"

"He was at the Ministry at one point…supposedly stumbled upon my imposter right in the act…that's where that memory came from, Rookwood showed everyone as evidence against me…"

"I feel sorry for him," Bellatrix laughed, but cut in again before Lucius could say a word. "Now, before I take the charm off this room…is there anything else you'd like to tell me, Lucius?" Bellatrix hovered a moment right behind Lucius, allowing her words to sink in with a serpentine hiss. "Nothing you…neglected to mention that I…might find on my next Legilimency spell…? Nothing…?"

Lucius swallowed hard, and Bellatrix could almost taste the fear rolling off of him in waves. Still, he steeled himself, and answered her: "No."

"Such _lies,_ Lucius…what would you have said were I the dark lord? What would you have said if you stared him in the eyes, knowing you might just be the world's poorest Occlumens-?"

"Bellatrix, that is none of your business-!"

"Legilimens!"

"Protego!"

Bellatrix's spell hit an invisible wall as she moved for Lucius again; Bellatrix hesitated to even twitch her wand, her mind-shattering intent still straining against Narcissa's fierce protection. "Bellatrix," she said, her voice full of remorse and yet so strong, "You may leave now."

Bellatrix, her shock fading, burst out laughing. "Oh, the two of you are perfect for each other!" she crowed. "Ah, I give up, Cissy, I really do. You'll never see that you're too good for this scum. Well, one day!" And Bellatrix pranced away, cackling, just as Draco wandered back into the room.

"Is…is Aunt Bella okay…?"

"No one knows," Lucius grunted, as Narcissa walked over and took his hand. "And I doubt we ever will."

OOOOOOOOO

Voldemort had suspended Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco from his inner circle indefinitely. Bellatrix had developed a new tendency to dance around the house, singing her joys that Lucius had lost favor with the dark lord, something Voldemort found increasingly hysterical. Bellatrix was a nasty, nasty woman, but something about that appealed to the snake-like man skulking about the Black house. He never had liked the fawning, brainwashed type of person, especially women. Hormones combined with that general attitude tended to be a bad thing. Plus, there was something about Bellatrix that was very…_real._ She didn't have anyone left to impress, and didn't even try. She was uniquely herself, and something told Voldemort that wasn't another girl in the world like her.

"My lord?"

Bellatrix had just swung down from the chandelier. How she had gotten up there, Voldemort didn't know, but something told him he wouldn't like the answer. Voldemort simply turned to glare scathingly at Bellatrix, who landed on the counter with a characteristic, overdone pout at the negative attention. Then Bellatrix realized the time: two in the morning. Not all creatures were night owls like herself.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Black, hazelnut-oh, I don't have to tell you, do I?"

Bellatrix smiled, and hopped down off the counter. "Not at all, my lord," she said, smiling and waving her wand at various cabinets. The kettle, water, coffee grounds, filter, paper, and cup all assembled on the counter in front of Bellatrix, and her long-fingered hands immediately went to work.

"Has there been any word from Narcissa?"

Bellatrix shook her head, dark curls falling over her shoulders. "None," she said. "I almost fear that she is angry with me as well as…well, she's angry. But she may also be relieved…she never liked having her husband in such danger constantly. She never liked having him so often in harm's way." Bellatrix knocked her hair out of her face, and enchanted the pot to float towards the stove. A small flame ignited the burner, and Bellatrix left the water to boil while she poured the coffee grounds into a filter paper.

"Why?"

Bellatrix's hands suddenly paused in their work, but she hastily returned them to motion to smooth over the moment. Voldemort's heart seemed to freeze for a moment as he anticipated Bellatrix's answer: the way she stopped, the way she looked almost ashamed right now, the way she refused to turn around to look at him-

"Love," she finally said, her voice heavy with a sullen, rotten tone. "Love, that supposedly saved Harry Potter. Love, that keeps Hogwarts alive. Love, that cost Dumbledore his life. Love, that ruined yours. Love, that consumes mine." Bellatrix shook her head furiously, and Voldemort felt a strange, sudden urge to pull her hair back and see her face. She had shaken her hair so that it hid her beautiful visage, so he could see nothing of the strong jaw, hollow cheeks, and burning eyes that he knew were now consumed with her hidden passion. "Love, that ruins everything, saves nothing, and causes me pain every day. Love, for which I lost both of my sisters, and which I forsook so I could keep favor in my family. Love, which tortures me every day with its very existence, telling me its real while I try to deny it-"

"It's real," Voldemort said abruptly, halting Bellatrix's rant. He had heard her voice gathering emotion, power, volume, speed, and he knew he wouldn't be able to stop her if she went down this train of thought. "It's a terrible thing, love…it's a mistake…but, under some rare circumstances…there is a chance it might be worth making."

Bellatrix just let out a soft snort of laughter, and took the whistling kettle from the stove. "Under what such circumstances, my lord?" she whispered, trying to keep the heart-broken spite out of her voice.

"Some might argue that it saved Potter many times, his mother's love for him," he said, trying to keep the spite from his own voice. "It is love that caused Lucius and Narcissa to save each other more than once. It is love that saved my own life from ruin, because Dumbledore's compassion gave me a way out. Not that I credit him with much…he was a mere gateway for me to be successful."

"But it still got you somewhere," Bellatrix whispered. "It still had significance…it still had meaning. This love I feel is for a man other than my husband, one who has wed not another woman but power and immortality and-"

"Oh, Bella, you act as if I don't know!"

A heavy, weighted silence fell upon the room, in which no one moved for fear of disturbing the shroud. Bellatrix had finished with the coffee; she now stood at the counter, weight in one hip, both hands wrapped around the warm mug, head down, hair still hiding her face, nervously chewing at her lower lip. Voldemort was standing directly behind her on the opposite side of the kitchen, staring incredulously at the perfectly-outlined body that was turned away from him as if Bellatrix had just given an all-out confession. Something told each of them that the other was waiting, yet that screaming, nagging voice wouldn't tell them what to say, what to do, how to break the terrible silence. Bellatrix, however, had more nerve.

"I know you know," she finally said, her voice almost inaudible and breaking even so. "And I know everyone else knows, but…we all kind of…ignore it…I guess they all hope it'll go away…" Bellatrix tried to force a laugh, but it sounded like a strained exhale. "It won't."

Voldemort finally took pity on her and moved closer, reaching out. She should know that it wasn't like he was blind, or stupid, or ignorant, or heartless, or cruel, or sadistic, or incapable of feeling, or a monster, or didn't want her around, or-

Voldemort disguised the gesture as seizing the cup of coffee, and Bellatrix's face fell. He quickly moved away, trying to ignore the pull between them. She drew him in, he realized: what was this, simply a carnal urge of the flesh? No, this tug came from somewhere else, somewhere a bit higher up, a bit deeper…Voldemort had not known a woman in…a long time, yes, but he didn't get that same feeling in the pit of his stomach that was a physical attraction. Was this merely pity? Or just something in the fog of the moment? It was, after all, the first time they had directly addressed Bellatrix's love for him: it was probably just a bit of heat in the moment, and nothing more.

Still, Voldemort was too preoccupied (or so he told himself) to notice Bellatrix moving closer. As soon as he felt her body heat, however, he found that he couldn't move away. Numbly, one hand found the counter and set the coffee down; the other came up between them, brushing against Bellatrix's cheek, telling himself it was only to catch that stray lock of chocolate-

Bellatrix moved; he moved; neither had any idea what they were doing before their lips met. Heat immediately flooded both of their bodies, spreading out and down from the point of contact. The entire world blanked out; there was nothing but the sudden euphoria that overtook them, nothing but the hot flesh of the other, their lips pressed together sinfully, wrongly, against everything that dictated that they should even be in the same room-

"I'm sorry."

Bellatrix stared up at him, her eyes still glazed over as the dark lord pulled away, shaking his head and gently touching one set of long, spindly fingers to his lips. One of her hands found the edge of the counter and she sank into it. Her weight collapsed against the granite as Voldemort spun on his heel and swept away so fast he might have Apparated. Still, Bellatrix was smirking like a demon, and, as soon as Voldemort had gone from earshot, she was laughing like she had just slaughtered a hundred Mudbloods.

She had given him a taste of freedom: and he had loved it.


	6. Chapter 6

For the next several days, the dark lord's presence was sparse. Whenever someone asked Bellatrix, she would simply smirk and tell them she had no idea. Not surprisingly, no one bought it. But no one bothered her either. The Malfoys finally dared to step into the old Black house a few days after Bellatrix's and Voldemort's secret little kiss, and only briefly. Narcissa and Draco spoke fleetingly with Bellatrix about winning back some favor with the dark lord; Lucius, understandably, avoided Bellatrix like she carried the plague, instead making the excuse that he needed to talk to Rabastan about Rodolphus's will. Bellatrix considered magically tripping Lucius as he walked out of the room, but then decided against it. She would lay off terrorizing Lucius until he did something else to make her mad.

"Bella, just-just, please, tell me if anything…well, if he makes a decision?"

"I will, I will," Bellatrix assured her. "But something tells me that when he wants you all back, he'll let you know."

Narcissa nodded. "I-I just needed to talk to someone…to make sure I wasn't missing anything…"

"I understand," Bellatrix said hastily. "Now, I suggest going before he shows up…nasty habit of his, but it's actually kind of funny-"

"Bella…just keep me updated?"

"What could you possibly need to be informed of…_Narcissa."_

Narcissa fairly screamed. Voldemort swept across the room in one great movement, black robes blurring with magic as he flew across the ground to wash right over Narcissa much like a ghost. Bellatrix took a step back, her heart suddenly in her throat. How would the dark lord react to Narcissa's presence? And, even better, how would he react to hers?

"Narcissa, you may take your husband and your son and leave," Voldemort snarled. "Bellatrix, you may stay here."

Narcissa grabbed Draco and fairly ran out of the room. Voldemort paused, waiting for her quick, mincing footsteps to vanish and the front door to slam before he turned around to face Bellatrix, an unreadable emotion on his face. Bellatrix nervously averted her eyes, unsure of what to do. Voldemort didn't say anything for a moment; it seemed he, too, was at a loss.

"We need to talk."

_Clearly._ The thought flashed across Bellatrix's mind momentarily, and she was suddenly very, very thankful for Occlumency.

"I shouldn't have done that."

Bellatrix didn't have to ask for clarification; it was exceedingly clear that he meant their impromptu kiss the other night. Still, she said nothing, made no eye contact, barely even breathed. Gone was the earlier confidence from her mental comment; now, in the face of bitter reality, Bellatrix could only be ashamed of herself for ever deluding herself into thinking it could be true.

"Don't take this the wrong way…I do give a bloody damn if you live or die, or whatever happens to those who love has spurned…but I can't do this. I can't love. You know that."

"I do," Bellatrix murmured. "I know you think that way, but…I beg to differ."

Voldemort simply snickered, and began slowly pacing up and down the room. Bellatrix remained quite stationary, watching him out of the corner of her eye. How she longed to run to him and embrace him, to show him that as long as he was willing, she could love him! She wanted nothing more than to show Voldemort that as long as she was willing to give him love, he was able to feel that affection. "You presume to tell me," Voldemort said slowly, clasping his hands behind his back while still furiously pacing, "that you think that I can, not only feel emotion, but…_love?"_

"Yes," Bellatrix whispered. "I know you can feel emotion, my lord…we have all seen your rage, your disappointment, your agitation, your pleasure…but we have never once seen your affection, your contentment, your happiness…I believe that you have the capability to feel these emotions, just never the opportunity."

Voldemort threw off Bellatrix's words. "Precious," he said slowly, turning over every syllable in his mouth slowly and letting it roll off of his tongue in a purr. "Precocious…a lovely ideal world…but, alas, dear Bella, impossible."

"But it is possible!" Bellatrix gasped, suddenly rushing up to meet Voldemort in his next trip up the room. She was simply unable to restrain herself any longer. "We saw that between us! You can still know happiness, my lord-!"

"Happiness and lust are two distinctive things!" Voldemort rasped, seizing Bellatrix's wrists as she brought her hands up to grasp the front of his robes. "I do not know what happiness is, Bella! Do not presume to know anything about that-!"

"I can give you-!"

"Bella-!"

"Don't give this up-!"

"You think only of yourself!"

"I think of the moment you kissed me back!"

The sound of a harsh, resounding slap was heard throughout almost the entire manor; Bellatrix's dark curls spun around her head, and she took a staggering step back, shock etched into her face. Voldemort looked strangely calm, if not a bit agitated. Bellatrix, however, wasn't about to take that the same way. Tears welled up in her eyes, and for a moment, Voldemort thought that she would simply flee the room and leave him in peace. But instead, she took positively the opposite course of action.

Striding right up to Voldemort again, Bellatrix fisted her hands in his robes and yanked him closer, smashing their mouths together in a brutal, demanding, bruising kiss. It was hot, it was passionate, it was mocking, and Bellatrix knew exactly what she was doing. Something vaguely registered in Voldemort's mind that perhaps she had envisioned this, played it all out in her mind, and then, he was reaching for his wand. Bellatrix knocked it right out of his hand, kicking it away and holding him tighter. She broke away and sucked in a deep breath, barely an inch from his mouth, not willing to go far and sacrifice this position she held.

"Without a wand, you're just a man," she breathed, hot exhale flowing over his lips. "A man I know well enough…to be comfortable…doing this…" Bellatrix leaned in again, and he didn't even try to stop her this time. It wasn't worth it. Maybe if he gave her a small taste of this drug she craved, just enough to sate her rabid craving, she would back off and come out of her crazed mindset. Maybe then he could talk some sense into her. Ha, sense? Voldemort then thought. None of this made sense. And how had he managed to lose his wand, anyway? Did she have hers? Great, caught between a woman and a wand and neither were particularly good for his health-

A flash issued from Bellatrix's wand, and the room was suddenly muffled. Voldemort wasn't entirely sure where this was going, or if he liked the destination, but something told him that, for once, he should shut up and let Bellatrix direct them.

"I hope you cast a few other charms to ensure we aren't disturbed."

"Several," Bellatrix whispered, cutting off anything else Voldemort might have said with a firm kiss. The message was clear: _shut the hell up, you're ruining it._ Voldemort decided against scolding her: for now, anyway. If she knew what she was doing, this could be a very pleasant night for both of them. And, as Bellatrix's hands started working at his robes, Voldemort got the sense Bellatrix knew _exactly _what she was doing.

Yeah. He could let her go.

OOOOOOOOO

Severus Snape was not so much alive as he was dead. Or was he not so much dead as he was alive? He couldn't be dead. He was lying on some sort of flat surface, and it was solid, so he must not be floating through the clouds of the afterlife…but where was he?

Upon looking around, Snape could see surroundings start to build themselves around him. Standing in the distance and swiftly growing closer was a tall, spectral figure, silvery and almost surreal. The more Snape looked around, the more this looked like the Shrieking Shack, and the more that figure looked like Dumbledore.

"Severus! My goodness, Severus, why all the blood?"

Snape shook his head, turning his back to Dumbledore. "You lied," he said flatly. "You lied, you bitter old fool."

Dumbledore just walked up next to Snape and stood, smiling, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "If I lied, Severus, I did so without my own knowledge," Dumbledore said kindly, setting a hand on Snape's arm. "Come, Severus-let us walk, and you tell me of your tale. It seems, from those wounds, that it wasn't pretty?"

"It wasn't," Snape said stiffly. "Tell me, Albus…am I truly dead?"

"Well, Harry just asked me the same question, so I should think to answer you both in kind," Dumbledore said, smiling. "I believe that this is the crossroads between this world and the next: the place where one chooses whether to move on, or to remain to finish up some business in the world…or, I suppose, if you were accidently turned into a Horcrux, to go back."

Snape visibly stiffened at the word "Horcrux," and his heart leapt to his throat. "About that," he said slowly, pausing in his step. Dumbledore paused as well, waiting patiently for Snape as the pallid man gathered his thoughts. After a moment, Snape moved forward again, seemingly confident in himself again. His black robes, now slick with blood, rippled eerily in the wind of his movement. Droplets of blood spattered the ground, but they vanished almost instantly. "Now, Albus, care to explain to me what went wrong?"

"Voldemort is a fickle, unstable entity," Dumbledore said slowly. "We hazarded a few guesses along the way; this is just the one that went wrong. I do apologize for all the peril along the way, and for destabilizing your soul so much…"

"Not that," Snape said curtly. "Although towards the end you're on the right track. No, see, Albus, you told me that by killing you, if I maintained the mentality that you asked me to do so and it was sparing you pain that it would not damage my soul. That was your lie, you bitter old man: my soul was indeed torn cleanly in two, contrary to what you said."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "I don't understand, Severus," he said. "Did your guilt overcome you-?"

"No, you sodden fool," Snape snarled. "I killed you, Albus. That tore my soul in two, and nothing can put it back together."

Dumbledore's look changed to worried. "Severus, you didn't-" he started.

"I did," Snape said tauntingly. "I figured it was in two pieces already, why not? I made it into a Horcrux."

Dumbledore sighed, and there was nothing but sorrow and sadness and regret on his face. "Severus, I…I'm so sorry…I never meant-"

"It doesn't matter," Snape said shortly. "I can go back, and I will."

Dumbledore's sadness only increased. "And you don't exactly have a choice, Severus…do you?"

Snape only shook his head, and turned a corner. They began descending a set of stairs; Snape seemed to know instinctively where they were going. The scene of the death.

"By visiting this place, it might be counter-productive, Severus."

"I don't care. When I go back, I'll need to haunt him all his miserable existence."

"You could join Lily."

Snape froze again, and Dumbledore went down another step to turn around and smile up at Snape. "She's, undoubtedly, one of the people who are waiting for you. Despite your falling out later in life, you were still great friends, and she certainly still cared about you. If you remain on this earth to torment Voldemort, not only will you live a tortured existence, it will be an empty one. Can you really live with never seeing Lily again for the rest of time?"

Snape seemed to turn this over in his mind for a moment before resuming walking down the stairs. The look on his face indicated resignation and a bit of trepidation; still, Dumbledore gently took Snape's elbow and guided him into the room where Voldemort had had Nagini kill Snape.

"But," Snape said slowly, "once the other half of my soul is purged…I would be able to see her again, no?" he asked. "That would be my true death, and I could go back?"

"I suppose," Dumbledore said amiably, "but it would certainly be better for you if you just stayed here, and had a peaceful end."

"Peaceful?"

Snape's tone was mocking; he didn't say anything else for another moment, but he didn't look like he wanted to, either. "You call my end peaceful?" he said incredulously, staring at Dumbledore like the man had just grown another head. "You call that disgusting end _peaceful?_ You think I can move on after dying that way?"

"You're here," Dumbledore said, still in that overly quiet, calm, collected manner he had been using the entire time. Snape merely snickered, and turned away. Just looking at Dumbledore was proving infuriating. The Potions master slowly walked into the room they had just encountered after descending the entire set of steps, looking around slowly and drinking in the entire scene. Snape just stood in the center of the room for a moment, right in the midst of the stain on the floor where his own blood had fallen. Dumbledore waited patiently in the doorway, watching Snape with an expression akin to calm indifference mixed with sympathy. Snape remained where he was for several long minutes: then, he turned back to Dumbledore and said,

"I am going back."

Dumbledore gave Snape a sad, but accepting smile, and gestured to the front door they were barely ten feet away from. "There lies your choice, then, Severus," he said, standing aside and smiling at Snape. "When I am finished with this place and you have left the world a second time, I will join you there, in the light. Will I see you waiting for me, Severus? Will you, after your second death, move on and rest in peace?"

Snape hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, as if afraid opening it would unleash Pandora's Box. "I will," he said, and finally exited the Shrieking Shack forever.


	7. Chapter 7

_Did that really just happen?_

Each was sure it was in the other's mind; still, as Voldemort and Bellatrix lay, waiting for the effects of their tryst to wear off, they didn't even bother speaking. Voldemort was absently running a finger through Bellatrix's dark hair; Bellatrix had her head pillowed comfortably on Voldemort's chest. How did this work? Voldemort wondered, mystified. How had Bellatrix been able to overpower him, and so completely? Bellatrix? Of all the…_Bellatrix?!_ Absently, Bellatrix reached up to the pillow under which she had stashed her wand; she flicked it once, and soft music immediately began to play. Soft as in, not deafeningly loud. This music was far from soft: it was more of Bellatrix's favorite band, which Voldemort had come to know by the name of Children of Bodom.

"How can you listen to this?"

"It's very soothing," Bellatrix murmured, resting her head on Voldemort's shoulder again. "Just let it take you over…"

Voldemort waited until Bellatrix's eyes closed, and then rolled his own red, serpentine orbs up to the ceiling. Ridiculous. Still, that guitar solo pouring from the speakers was oddly melodic for a death metal band…the vocals were not the terrifying death growl, but more of a cat-like scream, and every element seemed to lace together. Well, Voldemort supposed that "you can't judge a CD by its cover" applied here…

A soft vibration against his chest made Voldemort look down: Bellatrix was humming quietly along with the music, rather content where she was. Voldemort couldn't help but laugh: she looked so _innocent,_ so blameless…! Bellatrix looked up at this rare mirth flowing from her lord's mouth; Voldemort wordlessly pushed his upper body up off the couch they had chosen for the scene of the crime, Bellatrix sitting up as well to allow him room. "Dear girl, you had better _pray_ that I find that wand before the night is up-"

Bellatrix extended her hand. In it, both of their wands were clutched, his barely two inches longer than hers but significantly straighter and a lighter-colored wood. Voldemort plucked his wand from her hand, and then reached down to the floor for his robes. "Up," he grouched, motioning Bellatrix away. He couldn't quite reach, and would have to stand up to get his clothing. Dark hair covering her full breasts, Bellatrix got up, smirking slightly, and began gathering her own clothes. "Bella, care to tell me exactly what suicidal tendency suddenly possessed you to make a move like that?" Voldemort groaned slightly as he pushed himself up to stand and then bend over again to retrieve his robes. He heard a giggle from Bellatrix, and then, black panties slid up over cream thighs.

"I knew you needed this as much as I did," Bellatrix said, pulling the straps of her bra up and over her shoulders. "How long, then?"

"Since I've had a partner?" Voldemort snickered. "Oh…not long…every now and then I find a decent tramp to let off some tension. What concern is it of yours?"

"Just curious."

Voldemort snickered. "Sure you were," he snarled, tossing his robes over his shoulders. "Bella…Bellatrix Lestrange…"

"I'm not insane, I promise."

"Not my point, thank you. What time is it?"

"Twenty minutes we spent…it's quarter after midnight."

"That was fast," Voldemort dryly noted. "Shall I fault you or myself?"

"There's really only one answer to that question," Bellatrix purred, pulling her dress down and smoothing it out over her stomach. "Obviously it's my fault." She held her leather patchwork bodice to her stomach as she laced it, and then twisted it around so the lacing was in the back. Bellatrix straightened out the hood of her robe, and then tugged her hair out of the back of it. She thought she could pass for decent, and no one would be terribly involved in her appearance anyway. Bellatrix flicked her wand once at the doorway, and all the charms abruptly fell off of it.

"Gather the rest," Voldemort said, checking his own appearance in a glass cabinet against the far wall. "Tell them that the delay was because I was…_dealing with_ you." Then, as an afterthought, Voldemort added, "And do you ever listen to anything else?!"

Bellatrix fought down the urge to roll her eyes; instead, she changed the music to a Gothic, symphonic-sounding band, and exited the room. An operatic voice, heavy guitars, crashing drums, and swift keyboards backed by a small orchestra echoed forth from the stereo system Bellatrix had set up. The woman then swept from the room in a flurry of black, leaving Voldemort to make himself comfortable: and just enjoy the music.

_For whom the gun tolls;  
For whom the prey weeps;  
Bow before a war:  
Call it religion!_

An interesting song, Voldemort decided, as he took his seat by the fire. Glorious, leaping flame, within which probably lay so much. The power of fire, mystical, magical, and yet still beyond the reach of humans. Voldemort briefly wondered if he was still human: then, Bellatrix came springing back to him.

Bellatrix. A woman, the ruin of him! Brought low by mere lust, by a fox's trickery: Bellatrix Lestrange-no, Bellatrix Black, he numbly thought-an unmarried woman, whose husband died not days ago, was already going after him…could he attribute this simply to lust? He didn't think so. What powerful pull did Bellatrix exert over him that made him so inclined to simply succumb to her whims? Why was she, out of all the other women he had encountered, the one who intrigued him the most, had the most leverage over him, _knew_ him so intimately and deeply as even Dumbledore had not? Why was it that she, within a few days, was able to figure out how to make him respond, how to make him listen, and Dumbledore and countless teachers could not do the same with years of knowing him? Was it just because he was now feeling a woman's touch? What _was_ this?

_Some wounds never heal;  
Some tears never will!  
Dry for the unkind;  
Cry for mankind!_

The flames in front of Voldemort suddenly turned green, and a figure appeared.

Voldemort stayed his wand: he knew that figure. The question was, who was the imposter? Because that couldn't be Severus Snape striding towards him out of the fire as the rest of the Death Eaters came into the room from the opposite doorway, that couldn't be one of his most loyal and trusted Death Eaters, that simply couldn't be-

"And before you ask," the man drawled, in exactly Snape's sarcastic, drawling voice: "Yes, it is I, Severus Snape. I used the murder of Albus Dumbledore to make a Horcrux with my torn soul. If you are seeking an identity check, I can offer that as well: as I have been sitting in Dumbledore's lap for a few years, I would know this, and the dark lord can affirm it. Dumbledore's Patronus is a Phoenix."

Voldemort was hardly convinced, but a quick Legilimency spell confirmed it: Snape had indeed returned through use of a Horcrux, and was now standing before them, whole and hale. The question was, now…would he be allowed to stay?

_Even the dead cry;  
Their only comfort.  
Kill your friend, I don't care;  
Orchid kids, blinded stare!_

"How dare you?!!"

Bellatrix had shrieked and run at Snape, wand bared, spells firing left and right. "You disgusting slime! How dare you show your face here after your betrayal, your-your-"

"Bellatrix, please," Snape said, lazily blocking most of her spells. The rest sailed pointlessly past him into the roaring flames of the fireplace. "We can be civilized, can't we?'

"You betrayed him!" she screeched, still flying at Snape with a fury never before seen in her face. Well, never seen before she attacked Lucius, Voldemort dryly noted. "You sold him out in favor of a Mudblood love affair, you cheap, despicable, gullible, sad, sorry, pathetic excuse for a Death Eater!!" Bellatrix ended her stunning tirade not by hexing Snape, as the wizard was clearly poised to intercept, but by slugging him magnificently across the face. Snape was more inclined to take a jinx; still, he took the punch perfectly across the face, falling right over with the sound of a bone breaking. "You dirt-veined, traitorous, _stain!_ Dishonor! Dishonor on you! Dishonor on your cow of a Muggle father-!"

"That's quite enough, Bellatrix," Voldemort said lazily as Bellatrix got a running start and tried to deliver a stunning soccer-style kick to Snape as the Potions master tried to repair his nose-and stem the bleeding. Bellatrix paused mid-kick, resulting in an off-balance stumble and a few snickers.

"_Silence!!"_ Bellatrix screeched, firing off a few hexes towards those she suspected of mocking her. Wormtail and Mulciber threw everyone else behind them in a desperate run for the door; Bellatrix would have pursued if Voldemort hadn't restrained her yet again.

"Bella, gracious, your hormones today are raging," Voldemort said, as if he were simply musing over a newspaper. "Calm down, my dear, the world will not end."

Bellatrix, rebuked, did not respond.

_Drunk with the blood of your victims,  
I do feel your pity, wanting pain!  
Lust for fame, a deadly game!_

"Severus."

Snape slowly sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering incantations under his breath. He had repaired the break, but there was still a trickle of blood flowing. "Please…do please keep your lapdog in line."

"_Why, I never-!!"_

"Bellatrix."

It was too late. Bellatrix had already delivered a stunning kick to Snape's face, sending him crashing backwards onto the fireplace, and very nearly into the fire. It was impossible to hear Voldemort through Snape's howl of pain; Bellatrix's wand was suddenly pointed at the greasy-haired man, and she instantly employed her signature spell: "Crucio!"

_Good wombs hath born bad sons…_

Snape was biting his lip so hard that it began to bleed: he didn't want to give Bellatrix the satisfaction of hearing him scream and give himself over to the pain. She would not win! Still, as the pain progressed, more and more, sharper and sharper, as his bones burned hotter and hotter and his flesh felt like it was being pierced by a million knives, all Snape could think about was the pain, and he finally gave up.

"Fifteen seconds," Bellatrix sneered. "A record under my wand."

_Cursing! God, why?  
Falling for every lie!  
Survivors guilt in us forevermore…_

"Bellatrix. That's enough."

Bellatrix reluctantly ended the curse, snarling under her breath about Snape's lack of loyalty, lack of respect, and lack of something else that no respectable young woman of the time should have even been thinking about. Voldemort chose to cut his losses, and quit while he was ahead. Bellatrix had backed off; the insane muttering could be ignored for the time.

"Snape…I have yet to decide what to do about you."

Bellatrix snarled something else, this time in a death growl that very clearly matched the one of the song she had been listening to earlier. Voldemort's red eyes turned to Bellatrix, pacing like a starved predator, wand twitching in her hand, an animalistic, crazed light in her eyes. "Perhaps you'd like to repeat that, Bellatrix?" he sneered, as Bellatrix continued her incessant pacing. "Share with the rest of us?"

Bellatrix spoke again, much louder and without restraint, still in her death growl: "The Kinslayer returns," she growled, staring at Snape. "He who has shed the blood of his own kin-!"

"Quite an accusation," Snape panted, a bit breathless from Bellatrix's spell. "Are you quite sure you are in a position to make it-?"

"_Scum!!" _Bellatrix shrieked. Snape had set her off again. "You dare even speak in front of him! You should be glad you are even still alive, let alone in his presence! You don't deserve to be anywhere near him, never mind speaking to him-!"

"Bellatrix, my dear, you'll have an opportunity to pay him back in time," Voldemort said slowly. "In the mean time…I wish to see where Snape's loyalty still lies. After all…I cannot believe that he would return to his own Kinslayer."

_Fifteen candles, redeemers of this world;  
Dwell in hypocrisy:  
How were we supposed to know?_

Bellatrix's face finally began to relax from its vicious snarl. The Black woman's furious pacing slowed, and her wand stilled. She had left a trail of sparks that fell to the floor, singing the hardwood and threatening to ignite it every second. Now, there was a long track of blackened marks up and down the room from where Bellatrix had been walking. Voldemort dryly noted this with a snicker of amusement.

"Bellatrix…let's see, are there any more Legilimens in here? No?"

"No one else, my lord," Bellatrix purred. Her gait had changed from a swift, rough, agitated way of moving to a smooth, slow, rolling step.

"Good, then. The rest of you are all dismissed. And someone get the Malfoys. No, not all of them, never mind-just Lucius."

Bellatrix abruptly stopped in her tracks, threw back her head, and laughed. Her hour had come.

**A/N: Song lyrics are The Kinslayer, by Nightwish. Thought it was appropriate. Review, pl0x.**


	8. Chapter 8

Voldemort was well aware he had just made Bellatrix Black a very happy woman.

He had just slept with her, given her a wonderful go at torturing a traitor to the Death Eaters, and handed over one of the people she disliked most for her exclusively to question. Bellatrix would be looking harder than anyone for an excuse to banish Lucius Malfoy from their circle, and even harder than that to look for an excuse to cause him pain. Voldemort was certain he had put the right person in charge ten minutes after he had locked Lucius and Bellatrix in the same room and the screams started turning into pleas for mercy.

"My lord, she might just kill him," Fenrir Greyback muttered, flexing his long-nailed fingers. "Are you concerned for Lucius's sanity?"

"Not much, admittedly," Voldemort sneered. "His life, perhaps…but his sanity I am almost certain Bellatrix will destroy. But really, Lucius will destroy it himself, defying her." Voldemort chuckled as another screech from Bellatrix preceded more fruitless pleading from Lucius, even though most of the Death Eaters present shivered. "Oh, my, such a shame…but then again, Lucius never was good under torture." Voldemort shrugged and swept off again, hunting for a new way to kill time. Snape could do with some time to himself to sort out his whirling thoughts, Bellatrix was fully occupied with Lucius, and probably would be until the man passed out, and the rest of his Death Eaters weren't proving very entertaining or productive. He had been looking for some time to get together a list of Death Eaters to send into the Ministry…he could use this time to develop a new battle plan, he supposed. That, and a plan to get more followers. Oh, and more Horcruxes…he would need more Horcruxes…

"_Talk, you vicious, sniveling dirt!!"_

Oh, Bellatrix, Voldemort thought vaguely as he passed the room in which she held Lucius Malfoy under her wand. Bellatrix really was going to torture him into insanity, wasn't she? Same way as the Longbottoms. Well, Draco had already replaced his father, and Voldemort could always drag Narcissa into it. The woman certainly knew enough already, and had sympathized with the cause for years. However much she had lost her zeal for the case over the years wasn't her fault; she was too obsessed with Draco, always babying him and shielding him from everything. Wake up and smell the dead bodies, Narcissa: you can't hold him close forever.

"Bellatrix-please-I can explain, _please!"_

"Never, you foul, ignorant, deluded piece of-"

"Bella!!"

For a moment, the entire room was silent. Voldemort stopped in his tracks, took a step back, and listened at the door for a moment; all he heard was Lucius's ragged panting, and everything else was silent. Bellatrix's silent rage, however, was heavy enough to taste.

"You have no right," she breathed, after a moment of silence. "You have no right…" Her voice was gathering strength, and Voldemort knew she was winding up to explode. "You have no right! How _dare_ you address me so familiarly! How _dare_ you appeal to me as your sister! How _dare _you-? _Crucio! CRUCIO!!"_

There was one last, gut-wrenching scream, and then, the room fell silent.

Voldemort slowly shook his head, and walked away. He could just…go upstairs…pretend nothing happened…no one needed to know…oh, Bellatrix. Bella…she would be the death of them all, wouldn't she? She had finally succeeded in knocking out Lucius. And, as Voldemort began ascending the steps, he heard the door wrench open ahead of Bellatrix, and then slam behind her. For a moment, she paused in the middle of the hallway; then, Voldemort heard her footsteps coming closer, and her voice called out, surprisingly soft,

"My lord?"

Voldemort considered just moving on, and letting her chase him: but then, the thoughts of her rage came back, and her faithfulness, and Voldemort decided to humor her. He stopped three steps from the top, and turned halfway around to acknowledge Bellatrix.

"My lord, I…he fell unconscious. Shall I continue?"

"Wait until he wakes up of his own accord," Voldemort said slowly. "For now…he and Snape can share the basement. Make sure both of them are secure. Snape did not have his wand when he returned, but Lucius did. Find Lucius's wand, and snap it. Neither of them needs temptation. When Lucius wakes up, don't bother moving him, repay him for his kindness there."

Bellatrix nodded once, and Voldemort took the gesture to mean she was finished. But, as he turned around again, he heard her soft voice again, "Wait," and then, she Apparated up the steps to stand on the one right below him, nothing but a near-soundless _crack!_

"Bella-" Voldemort started, but Bellatrix cut him off without saying a word. She leaned up, briefly pressed her lips to Voldemort's, and then, just as quickly, Apparated away again. Voldemort felt an uncharacteristically small amount of rage swell up in him-then, it abated, just as quickly as it had come. Was it crime to realize at last how soft her lips were? Shaking his head, Voldemort blamed their hours-ago tryst for the physical attraction. Just hormones, nothing more…within a few days, his raging body would come down off the high it was on, and all would be back to normal. So, did he assume she was suffering from the same affliction and cut her some slack, or make sure she still knew her place?

Oh, she'd already left. No sense in wasting the effort to find her. Voldemort climbed the last three steps to the top of the staircase, turned left, and somehow found his feet travelling towards the door that read, on a fancy gold engraved plaque, _Regulus Arcterus Black._ Something was making him curious about the room of his former follower, the one who had offered his own house-elf to hide a Horcrux…the one who had then stolen the very same Horcrux…

Voldemort tapped the lock once, commanded, "Alohomora," and then entered the locked-up room.

Lucius Malfoy awoke…and his first thought was that he would have rather not.

His first conscious thought was something along the lines of, _I'm going to personally slaughter that filthy little slut._ His next thought was of how much everything hurt. His bones were still aching with the heat of being lit aflame, and his muscles still burned with the pain of having a thousand hot knives impaling them over and over and over again. His skin felt like it had been flayed, itching and stinging, and his entire body felt like lead whenever he tried to move. At even the simplest of commands his nerve endings would sing with pain, and his very brain screamed in protest. At a sharp gasp of pain, something-or someone-moved on the opposite side of the room, a movement Lucius caught out of the corner of his eye. With heart in throat, fearing whose dark robes those actually were, Lucius looked up.

At first, his heart soared: that was very clearly a masculine figure that sat against the far wall, and certainly not the womanly curves of Bellatrix Black. Black hair, not her dark, muddy brown-but a sharp, hooked nose and a sallow face and-

Lucius gave an audible groan, and allowed his head to fall back to the floor. He angrily pillowed it on his arms, slammed one fist into the concrete floor, and groaned again. Stuck in the basement with Severus Snape. Oh, this would be a simple joy of a few hours…days…weeks…how long would he be stuck here, anyway?

"Oh, don't act so disgusted with me, Lucius," Snape drawled, slinging one arm over his knee. He was spinning something between his fingers: a wand? That would certainly explain the lack of restraints on either of them. Lucius doubted that anyone in their right mind would have allowed either of the two wizards to go unbound, and they would have to be madder than a box of frogs to leave a wand in their presence. Even if it wasn't _their_ wand specifically, it would work all the same.

"I'll be as bloody disgusted as I wish," Lucius snapped, not bothering to look up at Snape. "Bellatrix Black just unleashed what I count to be years of hatred and rowing back and forth upon me, and I'm not feeling very well-disposed towards anyone right now, let alone _you."_

"And here I thought you would be a bit nicer to the man currently holding a wand," Snape said slowly, turning over every word in his mouth and spitting it out contemptuously. "Seeing as you, Lucius, have been reduced to such a miserable pile of slime, I would think that it wouldn't matter what you did. You can't _possibly_ sink any lower…it shouldn't matter your pride anymore when all you need to do is beg me to leave the door open behind me long enough for you to slither out in my shadow." Snape gave a little snicker of what might have been laughter; Lucius closed his eyes in humiliation, and buried his face further into his forearms. Why did it have to be Snape?

The Potions master continued his ruthless attack. "What with all the brown-nosing you've done as of late, Lucius, I should think that convincing me of this small favor should be nothing more than a few minutes' work for you: and your son, Draco, following in your footsteps, learning exactly the right way to exchange money with someone so that no one else sees past that handshake, mm? And word on the street is your wife isn't too happy with your infidelity, and she's seeking to give you a taste of your own bitter tonic-"

"Enough."

Lucius was surprised at how hoarse and cracked his voice was; still he couldn't bear to listen to Snape's toneless mocking of him and his family. No matter how far-fetched and ridiculous, it still hurt to even get the words driven into his skull.

"Don't presume you can end this torment, Lucius," Snape said coldly. "It is only a matter of time before Bellatrix comes back: and trust me, she can make your worst dreams come true."

"And what's yours?" Lucius had finally come up with a way to get to Snape. "Being confronted with shampoo-?"

"As opposed to your worst nightmare, which is going without it for a day, I should think not."

Damn; thwarted again. Lucius sighed and turned over, resting on his back instead of his stomach. It wasn't even worth the effort to try anymore. Snape seemed to acknowledge Lucius's defeat with one last stinging comment:

"Now that you've fallen out of favor with the dark lord, don't expect to live very comfortably. I predict Azkaban for a little while, and then he'll quietly murder you in bed."

"You must be immense fun at parties."

Snape just gave a little snicker, as if to shake off this unfortunate comment. He said nothing, though, mercifully: at least he had a heart, Lucius thought sullenly. Unlike Miss Bellatrix, who preferred to turn her heart into a cold, dead lump of coal with ice frosting over the exterior-

"You've been out for four hours."

Lucius gave a small start at Snape's next words: partly because it wasn't a sneering, nasty, scathing, caustic remark meant to spear Lucius's every hope and dream to death, partly because of what Snape was actually saying. Was he even telling the truth, or was he just trying to be difficult?

"I have never seen someone pass out for that long because of the Cruciatus Curse," Snape was saying.

"And you've certainly cast your fair lot of them," Lucius snickered. Snape's eyes briefly flashed with some unreadable emotion, but it vanished before Lucius could even really register it. Snape instead continued, a bit hesitantly.

"I know…Bellatrix is…not the nicest of people…but I could hear what was going on down here. How powerful a curse she lay upon you, exactly?"

"You seem to have answered your own question."

"Lucius, if I were you, I would think long and hard about incensing Bellatrix Black again. You know what she did to the Longbottoms, you know she is touched in the head, you know she has no scruples, you know she hates you, you know what she wants and I do pray you find it in your pea-sized brain to give it to her because if she layers up more than three Crucio's in a row she is almost guaranteed to kill you and completely guaranteed without a doubt to purge you of your sanity. If you want to keep on living for a few more years, I would start kissing her lovely ass!"

For a moment, Lucius wasn't sure if it was really Snape sitting across from him. He could do nothing but stare incredulously, mouth hanging open, gray eyes wide with shock before he finally snapped out of his stupor and was able to close his mouth and his eyes again. Snape, for once, had a good point, and he was probably speaking from experience. Lucius had seen personally what Bellatrix could do, but Snape spoke from directly under her wand. Snape would know what he was talking about. Ruefully, Lucius would admit that he should trust Snape, because he was in a very bad position to trust anyone else.

"Th-the dark lord wouldn't let her," he finally said. "He-he wouldn't let her kill me…"

"You've failed him a few too many times, Lucius. The dark lord doesn't carry around dead weight."

Lucius was silent again. All his arguments were fizzling out.

"If I caught the person posing as me-"

"You'd have equally as bad a case, because now you've got someone saying that you are trying to make them into a scapegoat."

"The dark lord has Legilimency on his side-!"

"Would he do you that much of a favor? I think not. Maybe if you were at your former level of favor, maybe…someone on the level of Bellatrix, who is in the dark lord's graces, he might allow them the benefit of the doubt and take the trouble to use Legilimency, but I doubt very much, Lucius, that unless you do all the work for him, this is not going to bode well for you."

Suddenly, Snape stiffened visibly, as if he had just heard the door opening. With a flick of his wand, Lucius found himself tied hand and foot, and Snape's hands were behind his back, his wand nowhere to be seen.

"Whatever you do, Malfoy, _keep your mouth closed."_

Lucius was about to angrily retort when he heard the door at the top of the stairs opening; he suddenly understood Snape's every action, and closed his mouth again. Bellatrix's tell-tale skirts and heeled boots came into view as she walked around the bottom of the stairwell, boots making sharp taps against the floor. Her crooked wand was out. With a flick of the thick, pointed instrument, Lucius's bonds vanished once again, but they were replaced with the unpleasant sensation of having freezing cold air slithering over every inch of his skin. "Up," Bellatrix said monotonously. For a moment, Lucius hesitated: then, he felt a stinging, itching, and burning in his skin, and hastily obeyed. The sensation vanished.

"Enjoy your time with Severus?" Bellatrix purred. Lucius gave a slight twitch, but said nothing. Bellatrix gave a vicious cackle, and flicked her wand towards the stairs. "The dark lord wants to see you, Lucius…and I hope, for your sake, you've seen some manners in my hexes!" Still viciously laughing, Bellatrix directed Lucius up the stairs, ignoring the Malfoy's trembling limbs.


	9. Chapter 9

Voldemort watched as Bellatrix dragged-or rather, forced along in extreme discomfort-Lucius into the room. The Malfoy, formerly so proud and imperturbable, now only looked shaken and afraid. Bellatrix, on the other hand, wore an expression of pure glee. They all knew what was about to happen: Bellatrix would pose the same questions, and torture Lucius right in front of the dark lord if he put a toe out of line, even in the form of refusing to answer a question. And Lucius, without a wand or anyone to defend him, had two choices: answer quietly, and not make a fuss, or let Bellatrix Cruciate him into oblivion.

Lucius kept his head down as he entered the room, avoiding the gaze of the red eyes he knew were currently piercing his soul. With a slight shock, he realized that Voldemort had the music playing in the background from earlier; Bellatrix's choice of music had remarkably-clean vocals, and a pleasant, symphonic sound. It was uplifting, and incredibly melodic.

_The song that angels sing;  
The spell that caused  
The gathering  
The magic that might bring  
Eternal life  
The gathering!_

"Bellatrix, turn that off," Voldemort said impatiently. A single flick of Bellatrix's wand silenced the music, leaving the room with a hollow, empty, tense feeling. Lucius stood quietly, unsure of what Voldemort sought from him: or Bellatrix.

"I am aware, Lucius, that you seek to regain favor."

Lucius nodded quickly, worrying his lower lips between his teeth. Voldemort smiled softly; this sod. Torturing him flat-out wouldn't yield any more results than it had previously, that much was clear. He had to strike somewhere else. But, he shouldn't jump the gun…no, that wasn't prudent at all. No sense in discouraging loyalty. He needed to pretend that it pained him to go to a last resort, like he actually gave a damn about Lucius's suffering…he needed to come across as unafraid to resort to such methods, but regretful when he had to. "Now, Lucius," Voldemort said slowly. "Lord Voldemort is benevolent…you have served me faithfully in the past…it is not my desire to abandon those I care about…"

A little snicker from Bellatrix in the corner drew nothing more than a twitch from Voldemort; Lucius was severely disheartened at this. Still, Voldemort pressed on as if without interruption.

"If you will submit to Legilimency, I can clear you of everything."

Lucius visibly stiffened, and Voldemort felt a swell of satisfaction enter his chest. He had Lucius exactly where he wanted him. No one would really want their mind searched, especially not by Voldemort, who was notorious for causing pain, both physically and mentally. Lucius knew the risks that went with allowing Voldemort full, unrestricted access to his mind: would he consider the risks to outweigh the benefits?

It barely took Lucius a minute. He calmly approached Voldemort, sank to his knees at the dark lord's side, and bowed his head, whispering,

"Do it."

A cackle of victory from Bellatrix was the last thing he registered.

Lucius's thoughts seem to come to him from outside his own control: memories of Hogwarts briefly passed, and then an image of dropping the diary into Ginny Weasley's cauldron at Flourish and Blotts, followed by a brief snatch of him welcoming Snape into Slytherin at the sorting, and after that came a vivid memory of Azkaban, where nothing but the worst filled his mind, usually having to do with Narcissa or Draco, his worry about them, the dementors casting all sorts of horrible visions upon him-

And then, it was as if he fell back into his own body. His head ached like someone had just beat him with a hammer; his breath rushed back into his chest with a furious gasp and a choking inhale, and Lucius found himself struggling to support his own weight. Digging his hands into the carpet and forcing himself to at least remain semi-upright on his knees, Lucius brought his racing heart back under control and tried to look up into Voldemort's face. The dark lord was standing above him, a sneer on his face and an unreadable emotion in his eyes. Bellatrix was laughing gleefully behind him; Lucius couldn't see her, but felt the urge to strangle her all the same.

"Pathetic," Voldemort decided, taking a slow step forward. "Ridiculous." Another step, this one angled more towards Lucius. "A disgrace." Every word felt like another gunshot wound as Voldemort began to circle Lucius, snake-like, watching him with the all-seeing, blind eyes of a serpent. "Simply…un…accept…able…" Lucius felt his spirit falling farther and farther with every word; Bellatrix's cackling grew louder, and now, she was forming words. With an ability to rival that of Peeves', she was taunting him, and Voldemort was doing nothing to stop her. Somehow, though, the barely-whispered words of the treacherous snake before him carried like he was screaming at the top of his lungs, sending Lucius spiraling down into that never-ending pit of despair.

"Bella," Voldemort said, pausing halfway around the second circle. "Go and find your sister…and her son. I think…we need to have the entire family here for a decision such as this one."

Still laughing manically, Bellatrix bounced out of the room, leaving them in blissful silence for a moment. Lucius had managed to regain most of his breath, and remained where he was. The weary slump in his shoulders told it all, though: he wasn't ready for any of this. The fear overcoming him was palpable; Voldemort fed on it like a ravenous demon. Bellatrix's gleeful celebration preceded her down the hall; she finally shut up, though, at a pleading word from Narcissa.

"Lucius…what I have seen disturbs me…"

Lucius visibly flinched at the words; Narcissa started forward towards her husband, as if to comfort him, but at a twitch of Voldemort's wand, she stopped and retreated a step to Draco's side.

"However…Lord Voldemort is not without mercy…"

Hope flickered in the eyes of all the Malfoys for a moment, but Voldemort crushed it again just as quickly.

"You will be allowed to remain in my ranks…but you shall not go unpunished."

Lucius knew this was coming. He bowed his head, awaiting the pain he knew was to come. Between Voldemort and Bellatrix, though, he doubted he would make it very long with all his sanity intact. Bellatrix's torture was positively horrendous, and she had to have learned from somewhere. Lucius got the feeling when she had said, "I learned from the best!" she meant the man standing in front of him.

"Crucio."

Lucius braced himself for the pain, but it never came. Instead, a feminine shriek echoed throughout the house, and Lucius stiffened even more. It couldn't be-! But, his worst fears were confirmed as he looked up. Voldemort held Narcissa under his wand, mercilessly torturing his wife.

"No!" Lucius cried, launching himself to his feet. His only thought was to get to Narcissa. Before he got more than five steps closer, he slammed headlong into an invisible wall: Bellatrix's work, as her ruthless, mirthless laughter dictated.

"You dirty little monkey!" she giggled. "I wouldn't do that if I were you!"

He knew, Lucius thought. By searching his mind, he had gained the information he needed: what would cause Lucius the most pain. And watching Narcissa in pain was it. Bellatrix seemed to have turned a blind eye to her sister; she focused only on Lucius, taunting him, thwarting him a different way every time he tried to get to Narcissa.

"Take me!" he cried, over and over, as Voldemort lifted and replaced the curse several times. "Take me instead, please, just let her go!"

Draco, horrified, had fled the room, for whatever purpose. Bellatrix ignored him, too, just taunting Lucius every time he made to break through the barrier she had set. Lucius continued to plead with Voldemort for what seemed like hours before Voldemort finally released a crying Narcissa, and Bellatrix allowed Lucius to go to her. Voldemort glanced at Bellatrix; the woman nodded once, and swept out of the room. Voldemort Disapparated, leaving Lucius and his wife, for once, alone.

OOOOOOOOO

"My lord, that was cruel."

Voldemort lazily sat down on Regulus's bed, sprawled out shamelessly over it, and turned onto his stomach. It had been a long, full day and night: even he needed rest. "Your point?" he drawled lazily, as the bed sank slightly next to him. Bellatrix tentatively seated herself at his side, and then, at his lack of a reaction, scooted closer.

"Just an observation."

Voldemort said nothing, instead setting his forehead against his crossed wrists and resting both on the enormous, fluffy pillows at the top of the bed. Bellatrix was silent as well, nothing but the slight groan of the bed every time either of them shifted their weight. Voldemort was perfectly content to just lie here and sleep; Bellatrix was welcome to stay or go, he didn't really care.

A soft touch in the small of his back caused Voldemort's entire body to stiffen; Bellatrix had gently rested one hand in his spine, and was now gently trailing it up and down the column of vertebrae. Voldemort considered stopping her; this affectionate gesture, so familiar and assuming, was something he would normally despise, and possibly hold her responsible for. Still, something kept him from lashing out, or even speaking: Bellatrix, emboldened again by his pressing silence, added another hand, and began kneading at Voldemort's shoulders. At first, tension built up in the area: the result of an unmade decision. But after a moment, even Voldemort couldn't resist the pull of Bellatrix's hands, and he began to relax.

"You're so thin," Bellatrix whispered, as her hands travelled down his back a bit further. Her hands seemed to reach the edges of his waist sooner than she expected; Voldemort merely shrugged.

"Blame metabolism, high activity level, low caloric intake, whatever you choose. I don't care much."

"I do," Bellatrix blurted out. She suddenly froze, as if she was afraid she couldn't correct her mistake; then, she hastily resumed her motion, and added on, "I-I care about your health, naturally, I…are you eating enough, are you-?"

"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Bellatrix's smile went unseen. "That's what they all say," she whispered. "You don't have to be dependant on other people to have relationships…you just have to be willing to accept their feelings for you, and return them."

"I refuse to have such weakness as returning feelings," Voldemort snapped. Despite his words, however, his body remained calm. "It gets in the way of business."

"There's a time and a place for business," Bellatrix murmured. "Maybe now…maybe now isn't it. Have you ever thought out it?"

"Feelings can't be turned on and off like a light switch; they can't be lit or snuffed out at will like a candle. If I had feelings in the hours of the night, they would not disappear in the hours of the day, just because it is time for another battle. I cannot risk such weakness. Look what it cost me in the Department of Mysteries-!"

"So it's true!"

Bellatrix's mouth hung open; her eyes were wide. She leapt back from Voldemort, shocked with what she had just heard. It was just as well that she had moved; Voldemort sat bolt upright, lashing out viciously. Bellatrix ducked down under a flash from his wand, erecting a shield and then holding it steadily before her. "The rumors," she gasped, "the whispers, the suspicions…it's all true, then? You risked being seen by the Ministry to save me?"

"I never said that," Voldemort said roughly.

"But you mean it!" Bellatrix said wildly, grasping at straws. "That's what you meant, when you said-"

"This conversation is over."

Voldemort rose to his feet, striding out of the room and slamming the door behind himself. Bellatrix heard his footsteps echoing down the stairs as he stomped down, and her shield slowly dissipated. She was safe now, she supposed. But, deep down, the rapid racing of her heart and the giddy feeling in her chest refused to abate. He cared! He cared enough to risk being seen by Ministry officials, prematurely discovered…because he wanted to save her life and mind! He wanted her around! He was willing to risk sacrificing something for her. And he had now openly admitted it. Bellatrix simply couldn't move past that fact. She was elated, ecstatic, that the man she had loved for an eternity might finally be starting to love her back.

**A/N: Song is The Gathering, by Delain.**


	10. Chapter 10

Red silk swished as Bellatrix slid the dark blood-colored dress up over her hips and settled it in her voluptuous curves. She had already spent the torturous hours taming and styling her hair, putting on makeup, and deciding on accessories: now, the hour had come to put it all together. Bellatrix felt she had spent more than enough time on this stupid event already, but, just when she was about to give up, the satisfying part came. Nature was a bitch, wasn't it? Making her work for hours for just a few short minutes of satisfaction. Bellatrix's eyes were overshadowed by a dark coating of burgundy; her accessories were a silver necklace, earrings, several rings, and silver shoes. The sandals were open over her feet, revealing one of her tattoos. Oh, that one had hurt, Bellatrix recalled, smiling slightly. But it was worth it. The dress should be long enough to cover most of her feet, anyway. Unless she had to dance. Ugh; she would probably have to. Who decided these things anyway?

Bellatrix zipped up the back of the dress with a wave of her wand, sighing softly as the fabric came together perfectly over her sides. Wonderful, she thought, bending down and straightening the long, full skirt of the gown. The beading on the left side ran down from the shoulder of the strapless gown to the hip in a curving line, gathering the silk and clinging to Bellatrix's curves. All in all, she loved the dress. Without a second thought, Bellatrix bent down and pulled her shoes on, being careful not to catch the inside of the dress when she put her feet down. Straightening again, Bellatrix took one last, cursory look at herself in the full-length mirror. Dress, jewelry, shoes, makeup, hair…oh, the hair. Four thousand pins were not enough! Bellatrix carefully pushed one last pin into her curly locks, out of paranoia, and then made herself step away from the mirror and open the door. She couldn't linger any longer, or she would pick at her appearance all night.

"You look nice."

Bellatrix flushed at the compliment, but only because it came from Voldemort. "Thank you," she squeaked, nervously brushing at her skirt.

"Where are you going?" Voldemort continued, "seeing as you actually cleaned up?"

"Oh, the Rosiers are having a ball tonight…it's their son's birthday, or something, and they invited all the Death Eaters they could…"

"Doesn't that sound a bit suspicious to you?" Voldemort sneered. Bellatrix shook her head innocently.

"My wand is right inside my dress, down the side here. And besides, they _only_ invited Death Eaters."

Voldemort nodded slowly. "And have you confirmed this?" he said slowly. He wasn't about to lose a single other member of his circle just because of some poor judgment!

"Several of us have spoken with the Rosiers," Bellatrix said firmly. "And all of us have gotten the exact same guest list, story, the whole thing."

Well, that was…responsible. For Bellatrix, especially. Voldemort had never thought he would live to see the day the woman looked before she leapt, but apparently, it was possible. Voldemort nodded slowly, taking all of this in. Well, fine. She had his blessing. Just one last little detail:

"And who are you going with?"

"Oh, no one," Bellatrix said easily. "No date, husband just died…I at least have to pretend to be disappointed."

_Wow, _Voldemort thought numbly. _This is one cold woman. _Still, he kept his comments to himself, and tried to think of someone who might be available (and mildly appealing) to take Bellatrix to a ball on a split-second notice. Unfortunately, the only person who came to mind was himself. "You didn't think about asking anyone to go with you?" Voldemort clarified. Bellatrix shamelessly shook her head, muttering something about images and appearing this way and that…

"I'm going with you."

Bellatrix's jaw fairly hit the floor. "E-excuse me-?"

"What respectable lady goes to an event like this without an escort, hm? This reflects badly on me if you go alone. I might as well make an appearance, I need to get back in touch with Rosier, anyway. His son and daughter are both of age as of now, and I am not opposed to any new recruits. So, we can kills two owls with one stone. Get yourself together now, we're leaving as soon as I can find the Apparition point in here."

OOOOOOOOO

It was safe to say that Bellatrix was very surprised that Voldemort had decided to escort her to a formal ball. But it was an even safer bet that the Rosiers were even more shocked.

Voldemort, anti-social as he was, turned out to be very well-versed in social affairs. He had insisted he escort Bellatrix in, and then simply acted like he owned the place. Bellatrix was a bit put off by the stares as she entered on the dark lord's arm, but Voldemort seemed not to notice them at all. He walked right up to the hosts and greeted them, as anyone else would do, and ignored the awkward glances back and forth between Rosier and his wife. After a while, everyone seemed to grow more accustomed to his presence-and Bellatrix's, for that matter-but there was still a noticeable wave of tension whenever Voldemort walked by. Bellatrix did her best to follow her escort's lead and ignore everything, but it was easier said than done.

"Well, Rosier, I'd like to speak with you for a moment," Voldemort said slowly, glancing at Bellatrix. "Bella, perhaps you and Mrs. Rosier can keep each other company in our absence?"

"Of course," Bellatrix said, trying to smile. Voldemort nodded once, and then gestured to Rosier to step out.

"Ladies…"

Voldemort and Rosier moved off, and Mrs. Rosier visibly relaxed. The second Voldemort and Rosier had swept out of the room, she leaned over and hissed to Bellatrix, "Why is he here?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "He said he needed to talk to your husband, but he didn't say anything about why. And then he also said something about me appearing to be a respectable young lady and going with an escort, instead of alone, as I had planned."

"He's right on that account," Mrs. Rosier snickered. "No respectable young lady goes to a social event alone. But I can't help but wonder what he wants with Evan…"

"Probably just Death Eater stuff," Bellatrix said, shrugging and moving off. Mrs. Rosier shadowed her, and Bellatrix continued: "the dark lord knows you two just had another baby, and he understands that Evan needs to be home enough to take care of the baby. Still, skiving off a job…isn't going to make him happy. He's probably just working out when Evan will return to regular duty."

Despite Bellatrix's words, Mrs. Rosier still looked a tad nervous. Bellatrix suggested a drink, and the women went over to the bar on the patio outside.

"Shot," Bellatrix said tiredly. Mrs. Rosier gave her a look of shock, and then quietly ordered a glass of iced tea. Bellatrix rolled her eyes, and dropped some money on the table for the shot. She threw it all back at once, gasping a bit as it all went down. Smirking at Mrs. Rosier, she said simply, "Alcohol is your _friend."_

"Bella, don't have too many," Mrs. Rosier cautioned. Bellatrix waved her off.

"I can hold alcohol better than any of these Death Eaters," Bellatrix sneered, "and it's been proven. That aside, I've put myself at a limit of four."

"_Four?!"_

Bellatrix laughed. "Please, dear, don't look so shocked, they're small-"

"Bellatrix, three will suffice."

Bellatrix shivered at the voice she knew too well. "Yes, my lord," she said dully. Voldemort sighed, and asked for a vodka and orange juice mixture.

"You'll be the death of me, you know that?"

Bellatrix glanced at Voldemort, slightly confused. "Is-is that a bad thing, or are you…?"

"It could be a good thing or a bad thing, seeing as I don't mean 'death' literally."

Bellatrix allowed herself a smile then, but didn't say anything; instead, she got herself another drink, this one a glass of juice. Voldemort shook his head, not understanding her in the slightest. She really would be the death of him, whether it be by confusing him or just by making him feel again. Leaning closer, Voldemort muttered, "Don't get too tipsy to dance," and then just walked away. Bellatrix was a smart woman; she would figure it out. As long as she could still keep her feet and know what was going on, he didn't care how much she drank.

OOOOOOOOO

Bellatrix passed the evening by socializing; Voldemort popped up from time to time, usually when he needed to speak with someone about what he usually explained was, "Death Eater business." Bellatrix would then proceed to talk and laugh and amuse herself, occasionally finding someone who hadn't eaten and going with them to get something. She ate in little increments the entire night, just grabbing something whenever she was near the food. Bellatrix hadn't seen Voldemort eat anything, but he mentioned offhand what was good and what he had been disappointed in. Bellatrix assumed he had eaten.

Towards the end of the evening, everyone started flocking towards the dance floor. Bellatrix had put it off the entire night, but now, it looked almost unavoidable. And, since Voldemort had mentioned it earlier, there was virtually no way she could get out of it.

"Bellatrix."

Bellatrix's heart fell, for once, at the sound of Voldemort's voice. "My lord, I'm not a very good dancer, I-I've never enjoyed it much-"

"We are really working to preserve image, Bellatrix," Voldemort hissed, sensually wrapping an arm around her waist. He knew what cards to play to get her out there, and showing her that he was not willing to leave room for the Holy Spirit was one surefire way. "Interested?"

Bellatrix hesitated a moment longer, but eventually, Voldemort's closeness won out. Bellatrix only wanted to prolong this, and if dancing was a way to do that, she was willing to take the plunge. Voldemort led her out onto the dance floor, where everyone else was dancing to a slow waltz. Bellatrix knew how to dance: that wasn't what worried her. What worried her was _who_ she was dancing with.

Voldemort, on the other hand, seemed to be ignoring Bella's discomfort. He simply took her hand, stepped back a bit to allow some daylight to fall between them, and took the first step. Bellatrix followed flawlessly, as she had been taught, her dark red dress flowing smoothly against his black robes. Silk against silk made a soft rushing noise, one Bellatrix found rather pleasant to listen to. She slowly moved across the dance floor with one hand in Voldemort's and the other following his arm around her waist. People carefully moved out of the way as the pair edged their way onto the dance floor; even when they neared the center, people gave up their spots in favor of the dark lord and his chosen partner. Bellatrix was shocked at how easily people seemed to move aside.

They moved like a perfect unit: two halves of one person. Bellatrix was a bit confused by how she managed to stay right with Voldemort as they danced, but a little voice in the back of her head told her that it was Voldemort who stayed with her. Their steps were perfectly timed, perfectly in synch, and perfectly taken, so their strides were exactly the same. Even their robes fell to the timing, gently swaying back and forth with the movements of their wearers' legs. Bellatrix's elegant curls hung around her face, perfectly framing a strong jaw, petite nose, and full lips. Chocolate eyes never left red slitted; they never fell out of time.

Bellatrix was almost shocked, but at the same time she was relieved when the song ended. Her obligation to dance was over, and she could go sit out the evening without a fuss. She curtsied politely to Voldemort; he bowed; the next song began, and people began to ask others to dance. Several people started towards Bellatrix, but when they saw Voldemort, they abruptly changed courses. Bellatrix glanced around herself for a moment; then, she looked back at Voldemort and said,

"I expect you will be requesting another?"

"One more will I make you suffer through," Voldemort said, and then stepped back and formally asked for her hand. Bellatrix, all thoughts of how insufferable this would be flying out of her head, stepped forward and accepted.

They ended up dancing until Bellatrix's feet were sore. She had chosen shoes with a heel of roughly three inches, and despite being used to heels, she was eventually given blisters. After healing them with a quick spell and a flick of her wand, Bellatrix opted to take a break. Most people were at that point anyway, and Voldemort had to smile to see all the witches in the room take out their wands and heal their sore feet. It seemed this was a common problem with women. Why couldn't they just wear shoes that wouldn't hurt their feet? Yes, it was more attractive, but the lengths women went for beauty: the blistering shoes, the uncomfortable outfits, the eyebrows tweezing, the waxing…Voldemort wasn't even sure what that was, but he knew it involved strips of paper, hot wax, and a lot of pained howling. Really? Just shave!

"My lord?"

Voldemort, his reverie broken, returned his gaze to Bellatrix. "I believe Macnair is quite anxious to ask me to dance," Bellatrix said, a small smile on her face. "Is there anyone you wish to ask?"

Voldemort took the hint. While he didn't think Bellatrix truly appreciated Macair's company, the chances were she was only going to allow him one dance, and she was only doing it for the sake of acting like a lady. Deep down, they all knew Bellatrix's true love was the Cruciatus Curse. The dark lord swept away, and, predictably, Macnair sped over like a bullet.

"May I have this dance?"

Bellatrix rose from her seat and accepted, and allowed Macnair exactly one dance. After that, several others stepped in and asked her. Bellatrix allowed them each exactly one dance, and then politely declined any further offers from those she had already danced with. She ended up dancing with five different gentlemen that night, not counting Voldemort. After the last of them had left for a moment, Bellatrix hurriedly made her way over to Voldemort. He seemed to be heading for her as well, because they reached out without even asking formally.

"I'm done," Bellatrix announced, keeping her voice below the music. Voldemort heard, however, and replied.

"I know," he said. "Just a half an hour until midnight; then, we leave."

Bellatrix gave a relieved exhale, and lowered her head for a moment. Only thirty minutes to go…she could do this. "After this dance, may I be excused?" she said softly. "I would like to get a drink."

"One," Voldemort said, warning in his tone. Bellatrix quickly nodded her assent, and Voldemort nodded once in return. "What have you been drinking the entire night, if I may ask?"

"Mostly juice," Bellatrix said softly. "A little alcohol here and there…just to take the edge off."

"Have you eaten?"

"I have."

Voldemort nodded once again, and the two of them fell awkwardly silent. The previous magic was gone; they were both just tired at this point, and nothing short of "drastic" was going to change that. But, they had made sufficient progress: Bellatrix had actually behaved like a proper lady tonight, and Voldemort knew he was truly testing her to ask her to do so. If he hadn't been there, the chances were she would have endured the first hour or so, and then just spent the night at the bar.

He never thought he would have admitted it…but he was glad he had come.


	11. Chapter 11

Several days later, and Bellatrix had yet to get over the ball the previous weekend. Now the middle of the week, she was bored, and considered herself as having nothing better to do. And so, she had transfigured Wormtail into a hamster, trapped him in a glass sphere, and sent him bouncing down the stairs over and over.

"Bellatrix, you're sick!" Narcissa gasped, catching the sphere and undoing Bellatrix's many spells. Wormtail scampered off as a mouse, squealing like a piglet, and Bellatrix laughed. "Bellatrix!!" Narcissa repeated, stamping her foot childishly. "Listen to me!"

Bellatrix's laughter died down a bit, but she still giggled a bit as she finally responded to her sister: "Oh, Cissy. You're so sweet, always playing the hero. Why are you here, anyway? Banishment not enough for you?"

Narcissa's face smoothed over as if she had been suddenly frozen. "I have come to see Lucius," she said waspishly. "I wanted to speak with him."

"Make it quick," Bellatrix advised. "The dark lord isn't a very forgiving man, you saw what happened last time-"

"I'm well aware, Bellatrix, thank you," Narcissa snapped. Then, she flounced off, fairly miffed and plenty of feathers ruffled. Bellatrix shrugged, and flicked her wand once. Wormtail's tell-tale squeal came from behind the wall, and a second later, a mouse scuttled across Bellatrix's field of vision. Bellatrix captured this in the very same sphere she had used earlier, and watched the little mouse bounce down the stairs for a few more minutes.

"Bellatrix."

Bellatrix's hamster ball evaporated like smoke. "Yes, my lord?" she said, swiftly rising to her feet. Wormtail scampered off again, squealing in deafening tones for a mouse. Voldemort watched him go with a mildly amused expression, and then turned his attention to Bellatrix.

"Did someone come in?"

Bellatrix hesitated, then decided to tell the truth. "Narcissa," she said. Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"Has she not had enough?" he snarled. "Does she not fear for her family?"

"She can't be without Lucius," Bellatrix sighed. "She…she loves him. Enough to risk her safety and sanity. She's got Draco squirreled away some place, though, she didn't say where. She just said he was safe."

A minor setback, then, but nothing Voldemort couldn't handle. But why on earth would Narcissa risk everything she was and had just to see this man who really hadn't done her much good as a husband or a provider? What was this feeling of love that caused people to do the stupidest things? Voldemort would never understand it.

Well, wait, no: he _did_ understand it! This must be the explanation for why he saved Bellatrix in the Department of Mysteries! Humans inherently wanted to protect each other: he had just acted upon that shred of primal instinct he had left. Because, whatever he looked like, he was still, technically, a human. And he used to be a human, so he was born with a human soul-that explained it all. Brief weakness due to past. Or did that explain it all? He still couldn't explain those random urges to be closer to Bellatrix, to have contact with her…? Mere instincts of the flesh?

Voldemort stared at Bellatrix for a moment, just marveling in her dark brown eyes. They still held a soul deep within their depths…his eyes…held the tiniest remaining piece of a soul, and even that was often buried. She looked at him with such love, understanding, that he suddenly felt a strange surge of…well, emotion. He hadn't felt any emotion like that in forever…he didn't know what it was. It was completely foreign.

Bellatrix smiled softly, reached up, craning her neck, and placed a soft kiss on Voldemort's cheek. "You're starting to see what that is, huh?" Then, he grinned, and bounced away, quite excited and pleased with herself. Voldemort couldn't even bring himself to open his mouth to stop her: something deep within him nagged him about her words.

Namely the fact that she was right.

OOOOOOOOO

"Oh, and Bella, I got my period today."

Bellatrix let out a ridiculously loud groan, and her forehead hit the table. "Damn," she muttered. "That means I'm tomorrow…oh, what a pain, we even had a Mudblood raid tomorrow! Oh, well. I suppose you have some of the usual painkillers?"

"I do," Narcissa said, handing Bellatrix a small vial of potion. "Severus was kind enough to brew this when I supplied him with the ingredients…I told him I'd put in a good word with the dark lord for him. He doesn't know the status of Lucius and I."

Bellatrix nodded. She and Narcissa were alone in the kitchen, so both spoke freely. Neither she nor Narcissa were particularly loud speakers, so there was no worry of being overheard. Bellatrix lifted her head up, groaning. She hated the cramps that came with her "time of the month;" they were particularly bad the first two days then, she was fine. Narcissa, on the other hand, had vicious cramps all six days, and the day beforehand. Bellatrix often spent a significant amount of time helping Narcissa get through the trying period of time.

"Ladies."

Macnair had entered the kitchen, and instantly gone for the fridge. He began scrounging for food much like Bellatrix had seen Fenrir do, and he eventually settled on a bowl of mashed potatoes. Bellatrix raised a spoon, dunked it into the bowl as Macnair passed, and dragged out a heaping spoonful of potatoes.

"Bellatrix!" Narcissa scolded, as her sister began to eat off random sides of the spoon. "How…how…how unbecoming of a young lady-!"

"Young? Cissy, dear, I'm not exactly young anymore."

"Oh…Bella!!"

Bellatrix shrugged, and then reached into the bowl into the center of the table. It was clearly a woman's touch that had arranged the fruit there, and it was specifically Narcissa's touch. Cissy had insisted that Bellatrix get the fruit into the house, making a lovely arrangement out of apples, bananas, oranges, pears, and other assorted fruits. Bellatrix pulled an orange out of the basket, expertly punctured it with her nails, and began peeling the skin off. "It explains all the cravings," she said lightly. "Chocolate, sugar, carbs…ugh. And now I feel bloated."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Just try to keep it under control," she advised. "You crashing from a massive sugar overload is not going to be pretty."

"Like hell it isn't," Macnair piped up, chuckling. Strangely silent until now, the Death Eater had finally dared to open his mouth. He soon regretted it: Bellatrix chased him out of the kitchen with jets of red light.

The "Mudblood raid" that night couldn't have gone better. Bellatrix streaked up and down the roads, cackling madly and setting fire to every house on the street. As people came pouring out of their houses, screaming, Death Eaters picked them off, one by one, until not a single person on the drive was left standing. For two hours, the Death Eaters owned the night, dancing under the light of the dark mark and the hidden moon. Even when the local police showed up, they won back their temporary property, slaughtering them all in a wave of green light and cries of, "Avada Kedavra!!" Bellatrix led the charge in full battle mode, screaming, waving her wand, and squealing like an excited schoolgirl.

Lucius had finally scraped up enough redemption to be allowed back into the Death Eaters' circle: he had chosen the neighborhood to attack, the time, and the method. His plan had pleased Voldemort and Bellatrix, who had been put in charge, and it was proceeded with. Lucius offered proof of killing eleven Mudbloods and Muggles, and Voldemort grudgingly graced him with the honor of attending meetings once more-on probation. Everyone knew it wasn't over, but things seemed to finally be looking up for the Malfoys.

Bellatrix danced down the street, setting a few last fires before the night was up. The Death Eaters were all gathering at the end of the street; Bellatrix slowly made her way there, leaving a blazing trail in her wake. As she walked, though, she was struck by a sudden, strange pang in her abdomen. Strange…she never got menstrual cramps in her stomach. Well, it was possible, Bellatrix thought. She shrugged it off, and kept walking. She was due tonight, anyway.

OOOOOOOOO

"So, Bellatrix, how have you been lately?"

Bellatrix glanced up as Narcissa walked into the living room. She was confused as to her sister's meaning, and inquired after an explanation.

"Your menstruation," Narcissa clarified. "Has the pain been terrible lately? Has it abated yet?"

"That's the thing," Bellatrix said slowly, confusion furrowing her brow even further. "I was due three days ago…but I haven't started yet!"

"That's odd," Narcissa said slowly. "You're always the day after me-you've never missed! Are you stressing a lot lately?"

"Not really," Bellatrix said slowly. "In fact, I've had less stress lately than ever before…"

Narcissa nervously glanced around, as if checking for listeners before saying something scandalous. "Bella, I…I know you…you've lain with the dark lord," Narcissa hissed, keeping her voice to a whisper and leaning close to Bellatrix to speak. "And I…well…if you haven't started menstruating by the end of this week…I…I think you should take a pregnancy test."

Bellatrix's eyes widened, and she stared at Narcissa as if she had just suggested she jump off a cliff. "Are you joking?" she gasped. "A-a pregnancy-you think-?"

"Bellatrix, I know this is a shock to you, but-just to make sure-!"

"Fine," Bellatrix snapped. "Just to make you happy, I'll do it!"

Narcissa shoved a small package wrapped in brown paper into Bellatrix's hands, and left as if chased by Voldemort himself.

OOOOOOOOO

Bellatrix slumped against the bathroom wall, the single word echoing over and over and over in her head like a broken record. _Positive._ She couldn't be pregnant…it couldn't be possible! And it had to be Voldemort's: who else had she even been near in the last month or so, let alone had sex with? One thing was for sure, Voldemort was the only one: he was the only one even in the running for the father. _Positive._ It was unreal, like it wasn't even happening. But she had to tell someone…she needed to tell Voldemort. He needed to know. It was his, anyway. _Positive._ Would he even believe her? Did she, realistically, _want_ him to believe her? Or did she want him to tell her what she wanted to hear, that this was all just a nightmare, and she would wake up whole and hale with no problems of the sort?

No. No. She had to be strong. She had to face this. Bellatrix summoned up every ounce of courage in her body, and pushed off the cold tile of the bathroom wall. She had to do this…for her unborn child's sake, she had to do this. Squaring her shoulders, lifting her chin, and drawing herself up straighter, Bellatrix exited the bathroom, the pregnancy test still clutched in one hand, reading out _positive._

She walked down the hallways in a fog, unsure she even knew where she wanted to go, let alone where logic dictated that Voldemort would be. She passed Macnair, Avery, and Rabastan, but spoke to none of them. She only had eyes for pale skin, red eyes, and sweeping black robes. She had no idea where he would be, but he was all that consumed her thoughts. It was borderline obsession: a constant mantra chanted over and over in her head, telling her that she had one purpose and one purpose only: to find her lover, and give him the news.

She found him in the study nearly ten minutes later, hidden among a pile of books as he pored over the volumes. She approached him feeling like there was cotton wrapped around the world; she could barely stand, and when he stood up, she very nearly collapsed in his arms. Luckily, he caught her before she had a chance to fall.

"What is wrong with you?" Voldemort hissed, struggling to support Bellatrix's weight.

Bellatrix just stared up at Voldemort with glazed eyes, something between horror and ecstasy in her gaze. Voldemort froze, recognizing immediately that something was very wrong. His best warrior, the strongest of them all, would require a significant shock to make her look this bad.

"Well? Bellatrix, what is it?!!"

Bellatrix just stared up at him for another moment: then, he uttered the words that he swore shattered his entire world.

"I'm pregnant."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: So, basically, I have no excuse. Suffice it to say that my muse crawled into a hole and died. But I finally got inspired, and I finally have an update! Hopefully, I'll be a little better about these in the future, lol. So, you all better review to keep it coming! You have Death-Eater-Bellatrix to thank for this update, so hats off to her, and you all follow her example! This chapter goes out to you, Death-Eater-Bellatrix.**

The seconds he heard the words, Voldemort checked around for people. There were a few standing around in the hallway, but they appeared not to have heard anything. Voldemort grabbed Bellatrix and pulled her deeper into the library, slamming the doors shut with bursts of magic. "Are you sure?" he hissed, leaning closer to her. Bellatrix nodded, staring at him as if in a fog. There was no denying it: she had to be sure. Nothing else could cause that glazed, out-of-her-own-head look in Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes. Normally she _was_ out of her own head: but one would never know it. She feigned sanity all too well.

"Does anyone else know?"

Bellatrix shook her head this time, and Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief. They could still salvage this yet. "No one must know!" he said quickly, keeping his voice to a whisper. "Use spells, Polyjuice Potion, I don't know, I don't care, but no one must know!"

"I-I want to keep it," Bellatrix stammered.

"But no one knows," Voldemort repeated slowly, deliberately, as if explaining things to a thick child. "I hold no responsibility to you or that baby."

"You're the father, of course you do!"

That seemed to snap Bellatrix out of her fog. It hadn't lasted long, Voldemort dryly thought to himself. Who would have ever thought Bellatrix Lestrange was even slightly maternal? "I'm going to carry this baby, protect it, and even hide it for you, the least you can do is help me take care of it!" she snapped. "I know neither of us planned this, and I know it's nothing more than an inconvenience to you, but to me, this child is something far more than just an accident, the result of one of us not being careful, or however you want to play it. This child is going to be a product of my love for you, and I'll be damned if you think you're going to let that child grow up without a father!"

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe it's best for that child to grow up without a father? Think about who its mother is, isn't that bad enough?"

"_Excuse me?_ What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you."

"Yes, you do! When it concerns our baby, yes, you do!"

"You overstep your boundaries."

"You overstepped yours when you slept with me!"

Voldemort wasn't sure who deserved to be slapped here: Bellatrix, or himself. Silence fell between the pair, a heavy, weighty thing that Voldemort swore could be cut with a knife. Bellatrix waited, breathing heavily, just praying that it wasn't determined that it was her who deserved the slap. Really, Voldemort couldn't punish her too harshly for anything she did: he would risk the baby. But then again, would Voldemort care about a baby he didn't even want to exist?

"Explain yourself," Voldemort said abruptly, shattering the silence. Bellatrix swallowed hard, mustered her courage, and gathered her words.

"When any one person takes any action, they must consider all possible outcomes and embrace them all. If you truly stand by your actions, you will accept the consequences freely. You will say that the consequences are worth your actions, and not regret what you did as a result of suffering the consequences. As far as I can tell, you do not regret your choice to become bonded with me in a deeper way than you thought even existed. So do not regret the consequences of your action as if you regret it."

"And what if I do regret sleeping with you?" Voldemort spun away, black robes becoming a maelstrom around him. He paced away a few steps, and then turned back around, still lost in a cloud of ebony. "Then what do you say to that?"

Bellatrix forced down the hurt welling up inside of her at even the notion that Voldemort would regret their tryst. She had to be strong; she had to prove to him that she was worthy of being his wife, and the mother of his child. "I say that I know you don't. Every day now, you look at me differently. You feel this connection, too: you should be proud that you are the father of one of the ultimate in pureblood children. The child of the Dark Lord himself, with his most faithful follower, will become the heir to the pureblood legacy." Bellatrix paused to gauge Voldemort's reaction, stopping to observe. He was staring off to the side, as if ashamed to even look at Bellatrix. Pretending that her pause had been for emphasis, Bellatrix continued.

"You may not feel the same way…but I know my love for you is what has given birth to this child. It has always been my deepest desire to please you, and to bring your heir into the world would be the highest honor for me. It would be a sacrifice, undoubtedly: trying so hard to conceive for so many years, I know now that a child can truly only be born when love is involved. You may not know love…but please, allow me to teach you. Love your child, my lord: love not even the woman who brought you your heir, but love the being that came from the love she had for you."

Voldemort's emotions were crashing like Bellatrix's when she was hit by PMS. He wasn't entirely sure, it seemed, what he was feeling, as the expression on his face changed swiftly from that of one who had just been slapped to anger to something akin to pain to pure, unbridled fury. Bellatrix made sure to leave him on "pain." It was the closest thing to empathy she could stir up in him.

Voldemort's real thoughts, however, were swirling even more than he showed. He wasn't sure of how feelings for Bellatrix, and here the little vixen was trying to manipulate his mostly-dead emotions all the more! Women. They were such trouble. Voldemort briefly wondered if it was too late to lie and tell Bellatrix he was gay, then concluded, almost instantly, that it was. The baby was already there, and for once, more lies were not the answer. But, at the same time, would it really be so bad to have a woman at his side? He'd already been fighting his growing attachment to her: maybe giving in would relieve a bit of the burden on them both. He didn't have to think of this as a commitment, just as an alliance. An alliance he could deal with.

"Bellatrix," Voldemort finally sighed. Now, he only looked and sounded tired. "You wear me out, in so many ways…yet, somehow, I might be able to make it through standing by you in pregnancy and raising a child."

It took all of Bellatrix's self-restraint not to wildly scream with joy when Voldemort admitted that he would stay with her. As it was, she couldn't help the little squeak she accidently let slip; she did her best to contain her displays of emotion, but the gleeful smile she felt take over her face was something she simply couldn't suppress. "Thank you," she gasped. "My lord, thank you…thank you…"

"As you stated, I am honor-bound to aid you and this child," Voldemort sighed. "Little fox, you probably planned this. But, this intelligence and cunning is undoubtedly why I keep you around." Voldemort shook his head spasmodically, and then glided off in a huff, muttering under his breath about how "women were more trouble than they were worth." Bellatrix heard none of this, drowning in her own ecstasy.

Her glee seemed to last throughout the entire day. In an hour, Bellatrix managed to rally ten Death Eaters and take off and raid a Muggle town. She single-handedly burned down an entire cul-de-sac of houses, brutally slaughtering every person inside. That night, Bellatrix slept like a baby, and no one was any the wiser of the change between her and Voldemort.

Voldemort, however, couldn't decide if he wanted to give Bellatrix a chance and get to know her better or try to ease away and let her down easy. What would happen when Bellatrix's pregnancy became noticeable? How would he explain it all? Did he just make Bellatrix explain? Did he just stand by and try to appear supportive as she braved the Death Eaters? Or did they say, "It's none of your business," and move on? Sooner or later, someone was bound to figure it out: the mood swings, the morning sickness, the weight gain, the growing stomach, and the health side effects would all lead someone to the conclusion that Bellatrix was pregnant. Voldemort was certain that he wanted Bellatrix to hide it for as long as she could. There was no telling how his followers would react to Bellatrix's pregnancy. One thing was for sure, though: without them knowing he was behind her, they would react negatively. Voldemort might have to step in to stop a duel if Bellatrix went in alone.

The days and weeks and months passed, and still, Voldemort couldn't make up his mind. He had found Bellatrix in the bathroom or out in the backyard vomiting profusely, though, and was slowly realizing exactly what he was getting into. He carefully gathered Bellatrix's hair into his hands, patted her back, and tried to ignore the nauseating smell wafting up from the vomit now gathering on the ground. When dryly asked how long this would keep up, Bellatrix snarled a nasty, "How should I know?" and grabbed a toothbrush from next to the sink. Voldemort asked her if she wanted to be alone or if she wanted him there; she asked him to get her some cookies, and shooed him out of the bathroom.

"What is going on in there?"

Voldemort hissed angrily. They had gone three and a half months without this unfortunate little confrontation, but now, someone had found out. Without much pause, Voldemort continued on towards the kitchen, throwing back over his shoulder at Greyback: "she's throwing up. Nothing very interesting."

That night, Bellatrix found Voldemort in the master bedroom of the manor, lounging about poring over a book. She literally collapsed onto the bed next to him, and shamelessly rolled over and draped herself over the snake-like man. Glaring nastily, Voldemort shivered slightly in a very _get off of me_ gesture. Bellatrix merely shifted closer; a heavy, dramatic sigh was heard, and Voldemort drawled,

"And why exactly do you feel the need for such frivolous intimacy?"

"I'm tired," Bellatrix moped. "Incredibly tired."

Voldemort huffed again, returning to his book. "Yes, well, that all should stop soon. You're into your second trimester now, it'll improve."

"Hopefully."

A sharp hiss; then, "the mood swings and attitudes I could do without, my dear. Am I granting you too much freedom? Have you forgotten your place?"

Bellatrix sat up, rubbing her eyes and childishly sticking out her lower lip. "Don't you think my place has changed a bit?" she said, her voice lifting in pitch. "I'm only the bearer of your child, I should still behave as the humble servant you so eagerly push away." Expertly timing her movements, Bellatrix paused in her speech and slid closer to Voldemort, putting an arm over his shoulders and leaning her head against his shoulder. "Speaking of being pushed away…what are you doing with me? One minute I swear you're opening up to me, truly embracing our shared destiny: another minute, you're cold as ice again, frostier than you ever were…"

Voldemort's entire body rippled as he slid out of Bellatrix's embrace, casting aside his book. "My thoughts of you," he said slowly, "are…complicated…mixed…ambivalent…I truly do not know how to deal with this situation."

Bellatrix's sigh clearly held disappointment and untold agony. Crushing defeat was something Bellatrix wasn't used to, but was being forced upon her now. Voldemort wasn't sure what was better: lying and trying to preserve her feelings, or being honest and wounding them. He then realized, with a shock, exactly what he was thinking: he _cared._ He was wondering if he wanted to make her feel better! He was actually considering her feelings. So…did that mean he could tell her now that he had made up his mind? Either way, his subconscious had clearly decided for itself. Damn hormones-it was scientifically proven that when a man and woman slept together that their bodies became chemically attracted-

"You love me."

Voldemort whipped around, fully prepared to backhand Bellatrix for her impudence. But somehow, seeing the look in her eyes, he realized it wasn't her fault: he was freely broadcasting his thoughts, and any Legilimens could see them well enough. Shoulders heaved with his increased breathing; chest rose and fell again; blood vessels pulsed with his viciously beating heart. Treacherous organ! Emotions, feelings, attachments…had he not deadened himself of these so long ago? And for exactly this reason: he would stand by her now, in sickness and health, for rich or poor, for better or for worse-

"I do."

And when her lips met his, it was done: he couldn't turn back. Especially not when that baby kicked.


	13. Chapter 13

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

There was the familiar feeling of a hook being jerked from behind his navel; then, the world flashed once and reappeared as the small, cozy street of Grimmauld Place, London. Harry blinked his eyes several times, hard: all around him, Dumbledore's Army was Apparating and showing up next to him. Hermione Apparated practically on his toes; Harry hurriedly stepped back to make room for her. He noticed that she was breathing harder, and she was starting to sweat: Hermione was nervous.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked slowly.

"I'm fine," Hermione said quickly. "Let's just…get this over with."

Nodding once to her, Harry took the first step forward, and the houses parted in front of him. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place appeared as if from nowhere, squeezing the other two houses out of the way. Harry carefully ascended the steps, his heart in his throat, fully knowing who might be behind that door. Evaded him, time and time again, but now, he was finally strong enough…or so he hoped. Voldemort and his gang of followers would know he was coming-would be waiting for him-

"Alohomora!"

Hermione had unlocked the door, although Harry soon realized that the gesture was useless: the door had been left unlocked. Swallowing the fear rising in his windpipe, Harry hesitantly pushed the door open and took a look around. Someone cast the Homenum Revelio charm behind him; a sharp intake of breath told him that the results weren't good.

"It's-it's like they're having a meeting," Ron said, nervousness causing his voice to crack. "Th-there's a load of them, mate, and they're all in the same room-"

"Well, let's go," Hermione said, pushing Ron out of the way in her haste. "If we move quickly we can still surprise them-"

"Can you?"

The cold, smooth voice from the stairwell drew everyone's attention. Lucius Malfoy stood in the middle of the staircase, slowly working his way down the carpeted steps. "Missed one," he said, his tone echoing with a mocking ring. "Your spell-casting is truly atrocious. And, thanks to it, the entire body of Death Eaters present knows you're here-"

"Expelliarmus!"

Lucius easily blocked the spell, tauntingly waving his wand at the witches and wizards gathered in the front lobby of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. "Surely you can do better!"

"Stupefy!"

"Reducto!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Again and again, flashes of light swatted aside the bursts of magic that came from Harry's group; Lucius didn't seem to be fazed in the slightest. "You all were our opposition force?" he drawled. "Disgusting. Pitiful. Appalling."

"And somehow, we won!" Harry said recklessly. "Where's Voldemort?"

"The more things change, the more things stay the same," Lucius mused, finally stepping down off the staircase. "Still not afraid to bark and yet afraid to bite, Potter?"

"You again."

Neville was the one most affected by the detached, cold, female voice that interrupted. "Out of the way, Lucius, I'll take it from here," Bellatrix snarled. "You're useless, anyway."

"Now, now, Bellatrix, this can be a team effort," Lucius sneered. But, despite his usual haughty exterior, Harry detected a flicker of yielding across Lucius Malfoy's face. What did Bellatrix have on him that would suddenly place her in a higher ranking than Malfoy? Back in the Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix had listened to Lucius-

"Good. You can go through the trouble of getting everyone else up here."

"Stupefy-!"

Bellatrix flicked her wand once, blocking the spell without even looking. "Run along now, Lucius," she purred. "Fetch the Dark Lord for me…and the rest of them, if you will. Tell them that I'll only save them a piece if they hurry." Bellatrix's grin spread further and further across her face as she spoke; when she finished, she was giggling madly, and Lucius was swiftly moving off with his grey eyes darting back and forth in shame. With one last, mad cackle, Bellatrix whipped around at lightning speed, and immediately began casting.

Her first spell missed completely, and hit a CD player in the room. Loud death metal music instantly started playing, and, just as quickly, Bellatrix was firing into the midst of Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix. Harry's first hope of her "hopeless miss" was fading quickly: Bellatrix was very sober, very clean, and very deadly. It was all they could do after the first brutal assault to throw up some shield charms and stagger back, trying to get their bearings again. Somewhere, deep in his mind, Harry felt a nagging doubt wriggling forth: this was a witch with prodigious skill and no conscience, and she was far beyond their ability. To be able to brutally push them all back, to force them into the defensive, all by herself: while there were ten or more of them! And the way she turned on the music-very blatant, very nonchalant, and the lyrics were disgustingly appropriate.

_Enemy, take one good look at me!  
Eradicate what you will always be!  
Tainted flesh polluted soul-  
Tearing me apart, but I-!  
Throw a punch, shards bleed on the floor,  
Tearing me apart, but I don't care anymore!  
Should I regret, or ask myself:  
ARE YOU DEAD YET?_

Bellatrix was cackling madly, jumping around screaming and firing off round after round without pause. Most of the green flashes of light were, Harry suspected, killing curses-but he saw several Stunning spells in there, and nasty hexes meant to maim or seriously injure. And Bellatrix was still just playing around! Harry had to do something. He had to do something drastic, something to throw her off, and create an opening-but what could ever throw Bellatrix Lestrange for a loop? What could he do to make her pause, for even the barest instant, to allow them to regroup? Singing along to the music, Bellatrix continued firing off curse after curse, easily dodging and ducking the feeble attempts to fight back. This was a game, Harry realized. How did someone beat someone at their own game?

All of a sudden, though, it was no longer Bellatrix's game alone. More Death Eaters were pouring into the foyer from all directions, curses and hexes and jinxes flying. Harry knew now, with a sinking feeling, that they couldn't win this battle, and that the Death Eaters were going to move their base of operations. So now, the focus changed from how to win to how to aid them in procuring a victory later? How could harry enable himself to find the Death Eaters again? The connection between himself and Voldemort had been severed; he had no resources left.

"Fall back!" he cried. "There's too many of them, we have to get out of here!"

It was as if everyone was waiting for him to say the word: most people were simply backing out of Grimmauld Place, but several had turned tail and ran. Harry wanted to make sure he was the last person out: he wanted to tell himself that it was to make sure no one was left behind, but really, he just wanted to see who had fallen in the battle. Fortunately, though, as everyone piled out of the manor and Disapparated off the street, Harry saw that the answer was no one. He fired off one last spell, something meant to explode whatever it hit, and ducked out the door, slamming it behind him and darting onto the street. When Hermione and Ron saw him bolt out the door, they both Disapparated at once; Harry followed instantly.

Everyone had reappeared in the Burrow's backyard, the temporary base of operations for the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army. After the Battle of Hogwarts, everyone had reconvened at the Weaselys' house, and tried to draw up a plan of action for finishing what Voldemort had started at the school. Since it was clear to everyone watching the fight that Voldemort and Bellatrix had survived, everyone thought it prudent to act as though they were not the only ones.

Harry was thanking himself over and over again that he had acted as he had.

OOOOOOOOO

"We have to get out of here. Now."

Bellatrix's tone had taken a remarkably sane, authoritative edge. Her usual mania seemed to have subsided for the moment; working off some steam in the heat of battle seemed to do Bellatrix some good. Now, she was ordering people around like she owned the place-and really, she did. Unofficially, Bellatrix was in charge, second only to Voldemort. The unspoken rules had shifted: Voldemort owed Bellatrix his life, unequivocally. Even if she owed him her sanity, she never had any to begin with, and thus owed him nothing. Bellatrix would insist otherwise, but everyone knew better.

"They'll be back soon, and with reinforcements, let's move while they don't know how few of us there really are!" Bellatrix hollered, firing a Stinging Hex at a slow-moving Amycus. "Someone call the Dark Lord-inform him of what happened here-"

"I am well aware, Bellatrix," Voldemort's hissing voice rang out. "Thank you." It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, and echoed equally in every single person's ears. "All of you, move to the graveyard where I regained my life-we will make our plans there." Then, Voldemort's presence became distinctively absent from the house, and everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief all at once.

"_You heard him, move!"_

Several people Disapparated on the spot, fearing Bellatrix's wand should fall upon them if they dared lag behind any longer. Others began rushing in every direction, fleeing into the deeper corners of the house if only to get away from Bellatrix. The eldest of the Black sisters couldn't possibly hound every single person at once, and they were only in danger of her wrath if she dawdled any longer. Still, Bellatrix didn't actually start chasing people around the house screaming: she instead lingered in the front foyer of the house, flinching slightly and placing a hand over her stomach, silently praying in thanks that she had been able to drive everyone off.

"I don't want you to see battle."

Voldemort's tone left no room for argument; Bellatrix immediately shook her head. "My lord, please-"

"And here you pester me about being more than just my humble servant, my plaything to discard when I get bored," Voldemort snickered, pacing over to Bellatrix. "Make up your mind."

"How shall I address you, then?" Bellatrix murmured. "I know you loathe and despise your given name; I would be a fool to even speak it now."

"Indeed you would," Voldemort snarled. "And I suppose you may address me simply as Voldemort, if you so please. But I warn you, Bellatrix, if you should ever forget your place in front of others, I shall cut your tongue out where you stand."

"I understand," Bellatrix murmured, a bit breathlessly. She leaned back against the stairs she was sitting on, moaning softly. A massive cramp had seized her fully; she was too overcome by it to say more to Voldemort, much as she wanted to.

"This is precisely why you should remain out of the front lines," Voldemort snapped, bending down and drawing his wand. "What if this happens right in the middle of-?"

"_No!" _Bellatrix abruptly shouted. Voldemort started, and stepped back.

"How dare you question my judgment-?"

"My lord-Voldemort-it isn't that-I can accept your decision, just…don't use magic on me, I don't know if it will hurt the baby-"

Voldemort suddenly understood Bellatrix's reaction. He supposed he couldn't fault her-a mother protecting her child was the fiercest protection, he thought ruefully, Lily Potter springing to mind. Stupid witch should have stood aside…but Bellatrix was risking a lot simply for the sake of her baby already, and Voldemort got the sinking feeling she would be risking more very soon. He simply didn't want to risk her life, or the baby's: if Bellatrix took a curse, normally, she would be able to handle it well enough. But if her baby took a curse, there was no telling what would happen. And if she froze during battle, she put both herself and her baby in danger.

"Are there remedies to ensure this doesn't happen during battle?" Voldemort slowly asked. Bellatrix nodded.

"I can make some tonight, even, or maybe get some from Narcissa…she's had a baby, she ought to be able to help me-she knows anyway, it was her who originally made me take the test."

"Do that, then," Voldemort said evenly, "and I shall strike a deal with you. So long as your body can keep pace with us, you may continue as usual in the rank of the Death Eaters. But around the sixth or seventh month, when your pregnancy starts to become apparent and your body starts to react more strongly to the baby, you will stop going on missions with your comrades. I will tell them that you have become seriously ill when you were hit by a curse on the last mission, and that you will make a full recovery in a few months. You will have the baby in private, and return to missions when you can. Do we have a deal?"

Bellatrix knew better than to argue. And really, she couldn't ask for much more than that. Slowly nodding, Bellatrix made her acceptance known, and then allowed Voldemort to help her to her feet and to her bedroom. Then, he handed her her wand, and bade her call Narcissa for the potions.

**A/N: Well, you all wanted Harry to intervene at some point, lol. Here it be, and I hope you all enjoy. Remember to review, or you can kiss the next update goodbye!**


	14. Chapter 14

"You said it would work!"

"I didn't know that many of them survived!"

Back at the Burrow, everyone was collapsing wherever they could find a spot. Immense guilt was already overwhelming Harry; he had charged in too quickly. He had thought that moving as quickly as possible would catch them off guard, and especially in a place that they considered their stronghold: Grimmauld Place had been a place that the Death Eaters had been trying to get into, but that they wouldn't even if they could, due to the Order of the Phoenix's presence. It appeared also that Bellatrix Lestrange was in charge of the entire operation, which was a change. Harry had seen her obey Lucius Malfoy's orders, among others. Now she had an entirely new handle on the Death Eaters. And Harry didn't' like it.

"_Oof!"_

"Luna, you okay?"

"Just fine, thanks." Luna popped right back up from where she hit the floor, smiled serenely at Harry, and then walked away, saying something about catching sight of a Blibbering Humdinger out the window. Harry shook his head, feeling a headache coming on; wasn't he a little young for migraines?

"How did they know?"

Hermione was furiously pacing already, and not happy in the slightest. "They knew we wouldn't be returning to Grimmauld Place. They knew they had it all to themselves. How did they figure we wouldn't come back and try to use it? Why did they risk it?"

"Chances are, they went straight there after the battle," Harry said quickly, "and just got settled and didn't feel like moving."

"Well, they're going to be gone now," Ron yelped, still frazzled from the incredible onslaught. "We're never gonna find them again!"

"Yes we are," Hermione said resolutely, shaking her head once. "I put a few little spells on that place, like the ones Mad-Eye set up for Snape. They'll tell us if anyone comes back to Grimmauld Place, and they'll hold whoever's there, keep them from Disapparating out of the place. In addition, I aimed a few tracking jinxes at a few of the Death Eaters, but I doubt any of them hit. But those trackers will tell us if any of them Apparate anywhere, and we'll know where they are."

"Hermione, you are truly amazing," Harry sighed, feeling a bit of guilt escape him. The mission wasn't a total failure, then. Hermione smiled slightly, and brushed a bit of dust off of her shoulder.

"Yes, well…thank you. But we still need to go back to Grimmauld Place once they're all done Apparating out, they're all starting to flee…"

"They think we're coming back with reinforcements," Harry said slowly.

"Well, we are," Hermione said dryly. "They just don't know when."

_One: Nothin' wrong with me…  
Two: Nothin' wrong with me…  
Three: Nothin' wrong with me!_

_One: Somethin's got to give…  
Two: Somethin's got to give…  
Three: Somethin's got to give!_

_Let the bodies hit the floor!  
Let the bodies hit the floor!  
Let the bodies hit the floor!_

Voldemort had holed up in the Malfoy's basement, stealing the stereo and CDs Bellatrix had brought along and turning it up as loud as the stereo would allow. He had then sat down on the floor, cross-legged, wand laid out on the floor in front of him, hands on his knees, closed his eyes, and entered his own mind. What had gone wrong? Had anything really gone wrong? No, he concluded, it was just that they had stayed too long in Grimmauld Place. Really, they should have moved sooner; they were lucky they got that much time out of the place. Now, though, the Malfoy's manor would do. For now. Where would they go after this? The Gaunt shack might work, or maybe the old Riddle house. Voldemort knew for a fact that no one would ever dare live in those places again. Maybe the old orphanage? He had heard that it was abandoned. He might also invade the Lestranges' old house.

'_cuz I'm losing my sight, losing my mind,  
Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine!_

The song had changed now, and Voldemort felt the pulsating bass of the stereo blasting throughout the desolate basement, drowning out the creaking of the house, the dripping of leaky pipes, the skittering of mice around the walls. The shaking could be felt reverberating in his chest, travelled through the entire building and shaking it to its foundations. He could feel that, too, in the floor upon which he sat, and in the very air he breathed. Hypersensitive, nerves strung up, Voldemort felt the tension piling up as the song changed again, and became what he realized to be Bellatrix's favorite song. Who were these people, Children of Bodom? Trashed, Lost, and Strungout, that was what this song was called. That _would_ be Bellatrix's favorite.

_Why did it get to the point where I cannot do…  
Nothing but try to beat something outta you?  
Let me drown, way deep down below for a sleep that'll surely let go,  
Until the end I raise and batter around looking at my own reflection-  
Forever I shall kiss you good bye to kill my soul addiction…_

That witch was an addiction, Voldemort thought ruefully. Body and soul, either or, she was vicious, and she knew how to use both mercilessly. He had vowed to her that he would allow his child to grow up with a father, but it would be loveless. Voldemort didn't know the meaning of love. He had never experienced it. Bellatrix firmly believed that she could teach him to at least care, but Voldemort wasn't sure if even that was possible. Attachment he could do. He was rather attached to Bellatrix right from the get-go, sensing her loyalty and fanaticism, but was attached really the same as caring about? Bella would argue it was.

Argh, her sister had rubbed off on him. Here he was, using that cute little nickname the two of them so often used. Next he was going to be calling Narcissa "Cissy," wasn't he? Oh, and here came the migraine…as if on cue, Voldemort's stomach let out a sickly growl, as if to say, _migraine? Low blood sugar!_ Sighing, the dark lord's eyes slowly opened, and he began to shake himself back into the waking world. It wasn't easy; his body had been in a near-hibernating state for several hours. But, after a good ten minutes of slowly flexing his muscles and tendons and trying not to strain anything, Voldemort figured he had loosened himself up enough to stand. Picking up his wand, he flicked it once at the stereo, shutting it off abruptly and allowing the echo to bounce around a little more.

Almost immediately, Voldemort was caught in the sounds of an argument. It sounded like Bellatrix and Narcissa shrieking at each other.

"I will _not_ have my house overrun by…by…!"

"It isn't your decision, Narcissa! The dark lord makes these decisions, and if you want to keep your life, I suggest you abide by them!"

"The dark lord wants this house as a headquarters, which I can accept. The term 'headquarters,' however, should not imply that every Death Eater lives here!"

"And they won't! But they will be here, and the dark lord might crash in the living room every now and then, so suck it up and deal with it!"

Voldemort was suddenly struck with the urge to scrape a cheese grater against his forehead or bang his head against the wall instead of deal with Bellatrix and Narcissa and their hormones. Knowing Bellatrix's pregnancy so far, she would be angry for another fifteen minutes, then break down in tears for a good twenty, and then get depressed and mope for an hour or so, and then make dinner and feel better. Despite the predictability of it all, though, there was still the process itself to fight out. Voldemort had found that emotional stress often exhausted the body physically; more than once had Narcissa complained about her period being delayed because of stress.

"How dare you?" the blonde in question shrieked. There was a sharp bang, and another shriek: then, Bellatrix screamed out a random hex, one that Voldemort doubted even she knew she had uttered, and there was more unintelligible screaming. Voldemort considered Apparating straight into the kitchen and just leaving the girls to fight it out: it would save probably everyone a lot of trouble.

Then, with a pang, Voldemort remembered that he wanted Bellatrix to sit out battles. He was sacrificing a lot for her and her damned baby; if it all went to waste because of an argument with her own sister, Voldemort might just kill Bellatrix herself. Resigning himself to being the household peacekeeper, Voldemort ascended the stairs in a flow of black mist, shoved open the door at the top of stairs, and entered the fray.

Lucius had his arms around Narcissa's middle, holding her back. On the contrary, Bellatrix had four Death Eaters holding her back, and they were struggling as it was. Bellatrix was hexing the brains out of anyone who came within even grazing range of her wand, and was angrily screaming at Narcissa while, with the other half of her mind, she cursed anyone within sight. Voldemort had to admire her multitasking: that was some incredible skill, to be cursing everyone with wand and word both. Still, marvel as he would like to at her skill, Voldemort had to split up the argument, lest Bellatrix inadvertently harm herself or her unborn child.

"Everybody…stop."

The entire room fell still instantly at Voldemort's words. Bellatrix triumphantly wrenched herself free of the restraining arms of her comrades. She raised her wand, a fresh jinx on her lips, but then paused when she saw everyone staring towards the same spot in the room, with the same horrified, petrified, mortified look on their face. Bellatrix's manic grin started to fade as she saw this; then, she slowly turned to look at the newcomer, realization dawning on her face.

"Bellatrix and Narcissa, you may stay. The rest of you are dismissed."

Lucius Malfoy threw everyone else behind him in his race for the door. Voldemort waited until everyone had piled out of the room, and even onto different floors, to turn back around and address the shaking Narcissa and abashed-looking Bellatrix.

"Who started it?"

Each witch simultaneously pointed to the other. Voldemort sighed exaggeratedly, rolled his eyes, and swept in a large, swift, floating circle around the woman. "What was the argument about?"

Bellatrix didn't seem too afraid to speak; Narcissa, on the other hand, opened and closed her mouth a few times, like she was a fish out of water, and said nothing. Bellatrix was really doing all of the talking. "We were disputing who had the authority in this house," Bellatrix said slowly. "I was trying to explain to Narcissa that while the Death Eaters and yourself, my lord, were in the house, I felt I had authority as-forgive my boldness-your right hand. But I was trying to communicate as well, which Narcissa would not hear of, that I would accept her authority in other matters, because this is her house, and that won't change when it is not being used as a headquarters."

Voldemort nodded slowly, pacing around and glowering at Narcissa. "Is this true?" he hissed. Narcissa didn't have to look up to know that he was addressing her. When she tried to speak, it came out a terrified squeak, so instead, she hastily nodded.

"We are both stressed and tired, my lord, and it simply got out of hand," Bellatrix said softly. "I implore your forgiveness not only for myself, but for my sister. If I may, I would like her to accompany me to brew some potions to aid in the pain and cramps."

Voldemort remained stationary for a minute, simply glaring at the two sisters and contemplating what to do. He didn't want them to simply walk away from it, to get away with it: but Bellatrix had taken responsibility for the both of them, and he wasn't punishing her, because of the baby that he had already sacrificed so much for…oh, what the hell. He was tired of dealing with them, had a headache, his ears were ringing, and he was hungry. He and already scared Narcissa enough to piss herself, it probably wasn't going to do much more to punish either one of them. Finally, Voldemort simply pointed at Narcissa and said, "You're lucky Bellatrix is such a good sister." Then, he spun in a circle, angrily exploding into black smoke. Narcissa almost fainted when she saw him leave; Bellatrix caught her sister, who was going weak at the knees, and hurriedly dragged her from the room.

"Quickly, quickly, Cissy, before he changes his mind…"


End file.
